Chapter 29: The Fourth Page

She read the rest of it at one in the morning, alone at her kitchen table, the box open in front of her and a mug of chai gone cold at her elbow, because some truths could apparently only be faced at the hour when the rest of the world had stopped watching. The ledger was her father's handwriting — she'd have known it anywhere, that particular slant to his sevens, the way he crossed his sevens Eu...