“Look at the pressure,” I said. “The ink did not bleed through the back on this one.”

Marcus took the paper from my hand.

He examined it under the light, his jaw tightening.

“She is right,” Marcus said. “This is a tracing.”

I turned the page over to reveal the beneficiary details.

The name at the top of the account statement was printed in bold black letters.

*Luca Romano.*

“Luca,” Sofia whispered, her hand flying to her throat. “He did this.”

“He has been siphoning the family funds for months,” Marcus said.

“This is millions of dollars,” Sofia said, her hands shaking. “But why now? Why poison Alexander?”

“Because Alexander was going to audit the offshore accounts next week,” Marcus replied.

The rain outside lashed harder against the glass, sounding like gravel thrown against the window.

The wind howled through the gaps in the old wooden frames of the mansion.

We all looked toward the bed where Alexander lay.

His breathing was shallow, a ragged sound that filled the heavy silence of the room.

His skin had turned a pale, sickly grey under the dim yellow light.