Chapter 110

Nora POV

I stare at the ledger like it might speak, like the pages might rearrange themselves into an explanation that makes sense. They don’t. David stands beside me with his eyes fixed on the book as though it’s a live grenade.

“Vincent had it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “All this time.”

David reaches out, touches the edge of the cover with one finger, then pulls back like it burned him but says nothing.

I keep the will aside and set the ledger on the desk. My fingers tremble when I open it. The first page is Malcolm’s tight, slanted handwriting: dates, amounts, names. Favours owed. Debts collected. Power mapped out in ink and numbers. I recognize some of the handwriting from old letters he sent me when I was small, before I understood what he really was.

“How long?”