Madison was holding Richard’s heavy wool coat, the one he had left draped over the chair in the ballroom.

She was soaking wet, her hair plastered to her cheeks, but her eyes were fixed on our father.

“You wanted to kill me?” Madison asked.

Her voice was barely carrying over the sound of the storm, but the words were clear.

Richard didn’t answer her.

He looked back at me, a cruel, desperate smile touching the corners of his lips.

“You think you’re the tactical genius, Natalie,” he whispered to me. “You think you’re saving the day.”

“Shut up, Richard,” I said, my hand still holding him against the wall.

“You’re already dead to them,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “Madison knows. Ask her what she found in my study this morning.”

I frowned, looking back at my sister. “Madison?”

Madison stopped a few feet away from us, her hands trembling as she held the heavy coat.

“I went into his study to find the financial records,” Madison said, her voice shaking. “But I found something else. Hidden in the lining of his briefcase.”