“In every main room. Mrs. Shields had the footage wiped after you left — told the company it was a privacy matter. But the system keeps a backup, and I got to it first. I’ve been copying it for weeks.” She swallowed.

“I couldn’t watch what she did to you anymore and do nothing. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

When Bruce’s team opened the drive, there it all was, in clear color, time-stamped and undeniable.

Agatha striking me — more than once, on more than one day. Agatha taking envelopes of cash from a drawer, envelopes I recognized, envelopes David had labeled in his own hand for his daughters.

And Agatha standing over me at her desk, making me sign document after document, blank pages, my hand shaking, her voice off-camera telling me to sign if I wanted my girls to keep eating.

There was more.