Part 2: My aunt wanted to adopt my little sister after our parents d*ed just to get her hands on the money — she had no idea I had one more card to play.

My college acceptance letter.

And printed copies of the complaints sent to child services.

Each complaint had notes in Howard’s handwriting.

Use food issue.

Say he leaves her alone after 10.

Mention anger.

Push instability.

At the bottom of the cabinet, they found the burner phone.

Ruiz called me at 2:17 in the morning.

“We recovered deleted messages.”

“From Howard?”

“Yes.”

“To Denise?”

“No.”

I sat upright.

“Who?”

“A number registered to a prepaid account.”

“Who used it?”

“We’re still confirming.”

“What do the messages say?”

Ruiz hesitated.

“Michael, one message was sent four hours before the fire.”

My mouth went dry.

“Read it.”

She did.

TONIGHT. GET THE ORIGINAL LEDGER. IF THEY RESIST, MAKE SURE THEY CAN’T TALK TOMORROW.

I stopped breathing.

“Howard wrote that?”

“No.”

My pulse hammered.

“It was sent to Howard.“

For the first time, I understood.

Howard had not designed the entire plan.

Someone else had been giving him orders.