The last thing I expected while fixing a loose hinge on my front gate in Austin, Texas, was a nightmare dragging itself across my driveway.

I looked at the clock on my computer screen. It was 11:42 p.m.

If Rebecca’s defense team or one of her shady associates realized that physical ledger was still sitting in the attic of the Maplewood Drive house, they would break in under cover of night and burn it to ashes. Once that ledger was gone, Ethan’s name would remain tainted, and Rebecca might slip away on a technicality.

I couldn't let that happen.

I grabbed my car keys, slipped a flashlight into my jacket pocket, and dialed Detective Chen’s direct cell phone.

"Detective Chen. It's Thomas."

"Thomas? Do you know what time it is?" she asked sleepily.

"Listen to me very carefully. I found a video from my brother. Rebecca didn't just murder him—she framed him for embezzlement to cover her tracks. The physical ledger proving her crimes is currently hidden in the false bottom of the cedar chest in the attic of their house on Maplewood Drive."

Detective Chen’s voice instantly snapped from groggy to razor-sharp. "Are you telling me the primary evidence of the corporate fraud is sitting unguarded in that house?"

"Yes. And if Rebecca's people find out, it'll be destroyed by morning."

"Stay put, Thomas. Do not go over there alone," Detective Chen commanded. "I'm dispatching a tactical unit to secure the property right now. Meet me there in twenty minutes."

"I'm already in my car," I said, hanging up before she could argue.

I sped through the quiet, dark streets of Austin, my headlights cutting through the cool night fog. Within fifteen minutes, I pulled up across the street from the silent, shuttered house on Maplewood Drive—the very house where Leo and Maya had suffered unimaginable horrors.

The property was dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlight filtering through the oak branches.

Before Detective Chen’s cruiser could arrive, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.

A black unmarked sedan was parked in the driveway with its lights off. The side door of the house was cracked open.

Someone was already inside.

I didn't wait for backup. My brother’s honor, my family's legacy, and the future of those two traumatized children depended on what was in that attic.

I crept silently across the lawn, slipped through the side door, and stepped into the dark, familiar hallway. The house smelled faintly of dust, old memories, and lingering despair.

I made my way quietly toward the back staircase leading up to the attic, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

As I reached the top of the stairs, the attic door stood ajar. A dim beam of flashlight cut through the darkness.

Inside, a man in a black jacket was frantically tearing open boxes, ripping apart old clothes, and thrashing through storage bins. He was searching for the cedar chest.

I stepped into the doorway, my shadow stretching across the wooden floorboards.

"Looking for something?" I asked, my voice echoing coldly through the attic.