I dragged my aching body to his office. Every shelf, every drawer, I searched. My eyes landed on the safe tucked in the corner.
My hands trembled as I typed combination after combination. Nothing. Then I noticed the photo on his desk—Helena, smiling, her arm linked with his. Her birthday. I typed it in. Click. The lock opened.
Inside were stacks of documents, bundles of cash, and a single flash drive. I knew. This was it. I plugged it into his laptop, holding my breath.
Reports, witness statements, confidential police files. Not just an accident. Not just guilt. Proof. Dominic had killed Adrian—and covered it up.
Tears blurred my vision as I gripped the flash drive like it was a lifeline. I called the police from his office phone, voice trembling. “I have evidence,” I whispered. “Adrian Cole’s death… it wasn’t an accident. I’m filing a case.”
After that, I packed in a fury, stuffing my clothes, documents, and small savings into a suitcase. Every movement fueled by rage and sorrow.
As I stepped outside, my brother waited by the car. Arms crossed, eyes sharp, softening only when they met mine.
“You’re ready?” he asked.
I nodded, tears brimming, voice shaking but firm. “Yes.”