The Maid’s Daughter Who Stopped a $250 Million Lie Before the Pen Fell

Whitcomb noticed too.

“What is it?”

Ava bit her lip.

“Nothing.”

He smiled.

“We are past nothing.”

She pointed through the glass.

“That compass isn’t from the Civil War period.”

I shut my eyes.

“Ava,” I breathed.

Mr. Whitcomb looked at the compass.

It was brass, darkened with age, lying beside a faded map and a folded letter.

“My grandfather bought that at auction continue reading …