“What is it?” Sophia asked, her eyes darting toward me.

“Caleb’s handwriting,” I said.

I flipped through the pages.

Numbers, dates, and names filled the columns.

Many of the names were local businesses, but others were unfamiliar, foreign-sounding entities.

“These are transactions,” I muttered.

“What kind of transactions?” she asked.

“Debts,” I said. “Massive ones. He was borrowing money from someone outside the family.”

I set the ledger down and picked up the first manila folder.

On the tab, Emily had written a single word in her neat, precise print: *Records*.

I opened the folder.

The first page was a medical chart with the header of the Reed Family Clinic.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was Emily’s name at the top, but the dates were all wrong.

They were dated weeks before her supposed illness began.

“Sophia,” I said, my voice shaking. “Look at this.”

She leaned over, squinting at the page in the dim light of the laptop.

“That’s Dr. Vale’s signature at the bottom,” she said.

“He was treating her for things she didn’t have,” I said.

“They were drugging her,” Sophia whispered.