“People who were paid,” she said coldly. “People who were afraid. People who learned the Sterling family could turn a living human being into a closed legal file whenever it suited them.”

Outside the chapel, Marcus met Teresa, a former triage nurse from St. Jude, clutching a yellow envelope to her chest, trembling. “I didn’t kill anyone,” she whispered.

“But I stayed quiet.”

Marcus took the envelope. “You can stop being quiet now.”

Inside were shift logs, incomplete charts, and a nearly erased intake note: Ana Paula Martinez, female, age 23, no family present. That was the other girl.

Ana Paula. The dead girl without a public story. The dead girl whom wealth had turned into Valerie Sterling.