Sophie opened the boathouse door before Eleanor could stop her.
Grant stood on the dock in a dark jacket, breathing hard.
Behind him, the lake reflected a thin stripe of moonlight.
“How did you know we were here?” Sophie asked.
Grant looked at the open locker, the handbag, and the laptop.
His shoulders dropped.
“So you found it.”
Sophie felt something inside her go cold.
“You knew it existed.”
“I knew Ava copied files.”
“Were you stealing from the fund?”
“No.”
“Then why were you afraid of that bag?”
“Because David was.”
Eleanor stepped beside Sophie. “That answer needs more words.”
Grant ran a hand over his face.
Five years earlier, he explained, he had been a junior finance director under David. He discovered strange transfers but accepted David’s explanation that they were temporary intercompany loans. When Ava began asking questions, Grant realized the transactions were not legitimate.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sophie asked.
“Because I was twenty-nine, terrified, and stupid.”
“You were dating me.”
“I thought I could get David to put the money back.”
Sophie laughed bitterly. “Ava said you threatened her.”
“I told her if she went public before we had proof, the company could collapse. That was true.”
“You told her to stay quiet.”
“Yes.”
“Then she died.”
Grant looked down.
“I have lived with that sentence every day.”
Sophie wanted to hate him completely. It would have been easier.
But shame was visible in his face.
“What happened the night she died?”
Grant hesitated.
Eleanor said, “Tell her.”
“Ava called me from the estate. She said she was taking the evidence to a reporter in Chicago.”
Sophie’s pulse jumped.
“I followed her.”
“You what?”
“I wanted to stop her long enough to call an attorney. I never caught up. The storm got worse. Twenty minutes later I came around a curve and saw her car down the embankment.”
Sophie gripped the edge of the table.
“You were there?”
“I called 911.”
“The police report said an anonymous motorist called.”
“I panicked. I left before officers arrived.”
“Why?”
Grant looked toward the pink handbag.
“Because when I reached the car, the passenger door was open and the bag was gone.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Grant continued. “I thought David had gotten there first.”
Sophie felt the story shifting again.
“My father found it at the boathouse two days later.”
Grant looked genuinely stunned.
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
Grant sat down on a wooden bench.
“Then Ava made it back here before the crash.”
Sophie frowned. “That makes no sense.”
Grant pointed to the gas-station receipt from the handbag. “Look at the time.”
11:42 p.m.
The crash had been reported at 12:36 a.m.
The gas station was thirty minutes north of the estate. The reporter Ava planned to meet lived south.
“She turned around,” Grant said.
Sophie checked the bag again.
At the bottom was a folded receipt she had ignored.
Not a receipt.
A parking ticket.
Mercer Holdings underground garage.
Timestamp: 12:03 a.m.
Ava had gone back to the office before the crash.
Eleanor whispered, “What did she go back for?”
The laptop chimed.
An encrypted file had finished loading from the memory card.
Its title was only two words.
BOARD ROOM.
Sophie opened it.
A security-camera still appeared.
Ava was standing in the executive conference room at 12:11 a.m.
Across from her was David.
And beside David stood Sophie’s father.