Adrien looked at him.

“You’re free to leave.”

Daniel glanced toward the door.

“But,” Adrien continued, “if you do, the complete financial package goes to the U.S. Attorney before your car reaches the highway.”

Daniel remained still.

Adrien turned toward Elena.

“You should go home.”

Her eyes widened.

“Home?”

“Yes.”

“With him?”

“No.”

Daniel laughed bitterly.

“This is insane.”

Adrien ignored him.

“Elena, is there anything in your house that could prove he had access to your identity? Old documents. Computers. Bank files.”

She thought.

Then remembered something.

Daniel’s office.

A room he had begun locking six months earlier.

“He has a safe.”

Daniel’s expression changed.

Barely.

But she saw it.

“So we start there,” Elena said.

Daniel stepped forward.

“You’re not going through my things.”

She turned toward him.

“Your things?”

Her voice became quiet.

“You put thirty-one million dollars in my name.”

Daniel’s face tightened.

Elena removed her wedding ring.

Eight years of history sat in her palm.

Then she placed it on the table.

“There is no ‘your’ and ‘mine’ anymore.”

She walked out.

Adrien followed.

Behind them, Marcus stayed with Daniel and Vanessa.

Or so Elena believed.

That mistake nearly killed her.

Chapter Three: The Locked Room

Elena’s house had never looked sinister before.

It was a beautiful brick home in Westbridge with cream walls, oak floors, and hydrangeas she planted herself.

Now every room felt like evidence.

Adrien came with two security men.

Elena led him upstairs.

Daniel’s office stood at the end of the hall.

Locked.

Adrien glanced at her.

“Permission?”

“Break it.”

One of his men forced the door.

Inside, everything was neat.

Too neat.

No papers.

No photographs.

No clutter.

Elena walked to a framed architectural print behind the desk.

“The safe is there.”

They removed the frame.

Adrien’s man opened the safe in twelve minutes.

Inside were four passports.

Elena recognized hers.

The others belonged to Daniel and Vanessa.

The fourth was under a different name.

David Carr.

Daniel’s photograph.

Elena picked it up.

“He was going to run.”

Adrien said nothing.

Beneath the passports lay bundles of cash, two flash drives, and a folder marked:

E.C. — FINAL LIABILITY

Elena’s hands shook as she opened it.

Inside were copies of everything.

Tax forms.

Bank records.

Signed transfers.

Insurance policies.

A document granting Daniel power of attorney in the event Elena became “mentally incapacitated.”

She had never seen it.

And one more item.

A life insurance policy.

Five million dollars.

Beneficiary: Daniel Carter.

Effective forty-three days earlier.

Elena sank into the chair.

Adrien took the papers from her.

For several seconds, she could not speak.

Then she whispered, “He wasn’t just going to blame me.”

Adrien stared at the policy.

“No.”

“He was going to kill me.”

“We don’t know that.”

She looked at him.

“Please stop saying that when we both know exactly what this means.”

Adrien’s jaw tightened.

She covered her face.

Eight years.

Every morning.

Every dinner.

Every time Daniel kissed her goodbye.

Had he already been planning her funeral?

Adrien quietly ordered his men to photograph everything.

Then Elena noticed something beneath the folder.

A book.

Old.

Leather-bound.

She recognized it immediately.

Her breath caught.

“That shouldn’t be here.”

Adrien looked at her.

“What is it?”

Elena lifted the volume.

“Seventeenth-century merchant ledger. A private client gave it to my studio last spring.”

“Which client?”

“Daniel brought it in.”

Adrien went still.

Elena opened the cover.

“I restored the spine.”

Adrien came closer.

“What was inside?”

“Nothing unusual.”

She stopped.

Actually, that wasn’t true.

“There were strips of paper.”

Adrien’s eyes sharpened.

“What kind?”

“Very thin. Hidden between the leather and backing.”

“What was written on them?”

“I don’t know. Numbers. Initials.”

“You photographed them?”

Elena looked at him.

“I photograph every layer of every restoration.”