I read it three times.
Then Priya entered the room holding a thin folder.
Her face was pale.
“What happened?” I asked.
She closed the door behind her.
“The police unlocked part of the drive.”
“And?”
“It contains scanned legal documents, private account records, and recordings of executive meetings.”
“Garrett recorded us?”
“It appears so.”
She sat beside the bed but did not open the folder.
“There is also a video file dated six months before your grandmother died.”
My skin prickled.
“What kind of video?”
“A statement.”
“From whom?”
Priya looked at me.
“From Evelyn.”
My breath caught painfully.
“What does she say?”
“She says the woman buried under her name was not Evelyn Andrews.”
The room became silent except for the steady pulse of the monitor.
Priya opened the folder and placed a printed transcript in my hands.
At the top of the first page, beneath the date, was a sentence spoken in my grandmother’s voice:
