“And you hand over the green ledger,” she added.

My hand tightened around my phone.

The green ledger was still tucked safely under the front seat of my sister’s old truck.

That ledger contained thirty years of payroll records.

It showed how Garrett had paid his men fairly.

It also showed how Charles had started diverting funds the month after Garrett’s first stroke.

“The ledger belongs to the company,” Charles said.

“It belongs to Garrett,” I said.

“Garrett is dead,” Victoria snapped.

She grabbed the gold pen from the tray and thrust it toward me.

“Take the pen, Eleanor.”

“You have ten seconds before that door opens.”

“If you do not sign this, we will tell the sheriff you broke into the house.”

“We will say you stole the family silver.”

“They will believe us,” she added.

“They always believe us.”

I looked at the white paper on the desk.

The words *Mutual Release and Non-Disclosure Agreement* were printed in bold at the top.

The lines for my signature were blank.

“Eight hundred thousand,” Charles said, his voice cracking.

He looked like he was about to cry.