My stepmother sl:ammed the door in my face after telling me, “Your father was bu:ried without you.” I didn’t scream, I didn’t beg; I walked straight to the cemetery with my prison clothes still in my backpack. But there I discovered there was no grave… only a secret letter that could destroy it.

I took out the cheap phone the prison gave me when I walked out. The screen was cracked, but the video file played fine.

My dad appeared on the screen. He looked incredibly thin, his skin looked yellow, and his eyes were sunken. He was sitting in his old workshop with his tools and a photo of my mom behind him.

“Finnley,” he said, his voice shaking. “If you’re watching this, it means you’re free. Forgive me for not being there to give you a hug.”

I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t cry out loud.

“You didn’t take a single dime,” my dad said on the video. “Carter was the one robbing the company. He used fake suppliers to move money to hidden accounts. When the audit started, Reagan gave him your passwords and put the fake files on your computer. Carter got into your apartment with a spare key. I found it in his bag.”