Brielle glanced at Spencer, but Spencer wouldn’t look at her.

“Is Spencer Aldridge the biological father of those babies?” Arthur asked.

Brielle pressed her lips together and didn’t move at all.

I drew a white receipt out of the binder and laid it next to the ledger.

“That’s a dry cleaner’s ticket from an address on East End Avenue,” I said.

“And next to it is the serial number log for the corporate charity payments Rosalind approved over the last six months.”

Brielle swallowed hard and drew her hands away from her lap.