“Always,” I said, turning to look at her. “But this place isn’t our home anymore.”

“No,” Madison agreed, looking around the empty ballroom. “It was just a beautiful cage.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small brass key to my father’s desk.

I walked over to the mahogany desk in the corner of the room.

I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the remaining ledger documents we had saved.

I took a box of matches from the mantle.

I struck a match, the small flame illuminating the dark room.

I held the corner of the ledger page to the fire.

The paper curled, turning black, the flame consuming the names, the dates, and the numbers.

I dropped the burning paper into the stone fireplace and watched it turn to ash.

The conspiracy was dead.

Our family was fractured, but the truth remained.

“Let’s go,” I said to Madison.

We turned our backs on the empty ballroom and walked out into the fresh, clean air.

I closed the heavy oak doors behind us, locking the past inside.

We walked down the driveway together, leaving the battlefield behind.