After three years in prison, I returned home hoping for nothing more than to hug my father, but my stepmother opened the door and said, “He d!ed a year ago. This house is mine now.”

It wasn’t because I believed you were guilty. At first they fooled me. They showed me fake documents, fabricated transfers, false reports. But by the time I discovered the truth, I was already sick, and they were watching my every move.

I sat down on a cemetery bench because my legs had stopped working.

Grace didn’t want me speaking to you. Ian isolated me. They convinced me you’d stolen money from the construction company. But it was all staged. They used your passwords, your computer, and your digital signature. I