MADISON

I should not be doing this.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I sat cross-legged on the massive bed in my new bedroom, laptop balanced on my thighs. The house was quiet—Mom was out with her friends celebrating her fresh marriage, and Marcus was supposed to be at some late business meeting. Or so he said.

The USB drive I’d found hidden in his study burned a hole in my pocket earlier. Now it was plugged in, and the screen glowed with folders labeled by dates. My fingers shook as I clicked the most recent one.

A video popped up.

There he was. Marcus Kane. My mom’s new...