“I gave Detective Voss a gift. Enough evidence to bury my son forever. Not enough to bury me.”
My throat tightened.
“And what do you want from me?”
Lydia paused at the door.
“The missing account key.”
I said nothing.
Her smile returned.
“Don’t insult us both by pretending you don’t have it.”
I did have it.
Not because I understood Blackroom. Not because I had planned for Lydia Mercer to rise from the dead and walk into my hospital room wearing pearls.
I had it because Grant had been careless with one number.
One transfer.
One forgotten checksum in a ledger he thought I would never see.
Lydia opened the door.
Before stepping into the hallway, she looked back.
“You have forty-eight hours, Clara. Give me the key, and Grant goes to prison. Refuse, and everyone learns what was hidden in the files you released.”
“What does that mean?”
