I handed him the wet, plastic-wrapped folder.

“Everything is in there,” I said. “The bank routing numbers in the Caymans, the fake shipping manifests, and Paul’s personal diary of transactions.”

Miller took the folder, his fingers tracing the edge of the plastic. “If this is real, it’s the end of Corrado’s entire operation.”

“It’s real,” I said. “Paul kept meticulous records because he was terrified Corrado would betray him.”

Miller unzipped his briefcase and slid the folder inside, clicking the brass locks shut.

“We have a grand jury convening on Thursday,” Miller said, looking at me intensely. “But you will have to testify, Lena.”

“I’ll testify,” I said, without a single doubt in my mind. “I will tell them every single thing I saw.”

“If you do this, your life as you know it is over,” Miller warned. “You will have to leave New York.”

“That is exactly what I want,” I replied.

“My office will arrange a new identity for you,” Miller said. “A quiet town, a new name, a clean slate.”

A sense of relief, cold and sharp, washed over me at his words.