“She wanted respectability,” I said. “And she wanted to hide the money where the IRS couldn’t touch it.”

We reached a pair of gilded double doors at the end of the east wing.

Alexander reached for the handle, but before he could touch it, a bright light flashed from the floor below.

The elevator indicator began to glow.

The numbers climbed steadily.

Three. Four. Five.

We froze.

The elevator bell chimed softly.

The metal doors began to slide open, revealing the bright interior.

Inside the elevator stood Rachel, holding a leather briefcase tightly against her chest.

Her white wedding gown was stained with grease along the hem.

She looked at us, her eyes widening in sheer panic.

“Alexander?” she gasped, taking a step back.

“It’s over, Rachel,” Alexander said, his voice cold and steady.

Rachel’s gaze shifted to me, and the panic in her eyes turned to pure venom.

“You always had to ruin everything, didn’t you, Emily?” she spat.

“You kept Mom locked in a room,” I said, taking a step toward her. “You killed Father.”