On me, the fabric clung awkwardly to the uneven texture of my left shoulder.

“The fire did not start from an electrical short in the kitchen, Chloe,” I said.

“Maya, shut your mouth,” Father snarled, taking a step toward me.

I did not step back.

“It started in the basement,” I said, keeping my eyes on Chloe. “Father was burning financial documents before the auditors arrived the next morning.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, her pupils shrinking.

“No,” she whispered. “That was an accident. The fire department said—”

“The fire department went off the report Father’s friends in the city government helped him write,” I said.

“You have no proof of that,” Father said, though his voice lacked its previous strength.

“I have the original audit notice,” I said. “The one you hid in the safe-deposit box.”

I tapped the screen of my phone again.

“The lawyer has a digital copy of everything,” I said. “If I do not call him by five o’clock to tell him otherwise, the files go directly to the federal prosecutor.”

Father’s hand twitched, his fingers curling into a fist.