It is enough to say that Caleb, the golden son, was systematically stealing from the company he was being groomed to inherit, and hiding it with a sophistication that only worked because no one imagined the quiet sister in the reports department was capable of following the trail.

When I had assembled enough to be certain, I took it to my father.

I thought, in my naivety, that he would want to know, that the evidence would speak for itself, that he would be grateful.

Instead, he looked at me across his enormous desk with something close to pity, and he said, “You have always been too sensitive for serious business, Chloe.” He did not even look at the documents.

He dismissed his daughter and her evidence in a single sentence, and turned back to his work.