I had sat at the end of the long table, saying nothing, pouring more wine for the men.

They thought I was listening to the music.

They thought I was thinking about the nursery.

In reality, I was watching the way Marcus’s fingers moved when he entered the code into his private wall safe behind the library bookcase.

I remembered the sequence of his thumb on the brass dial.

I remembered the sound of the tumblers clicking into place when the house was quiet at three in the morning.

“You don’t know what he has in the downtown office, do you, Sophia?” I asked.

Sophia picked up the revolver, her hand steady.

“I have his security credentials,” she said.

“That only gets you through the front door,” I said.

“Marcus does not trust servers.”

“He does not trust cloud storage.”

“Every transaction from the last eight years is on a cold-storage drive.”

Luca took a step forward, his boot heel clicking on the floorboards.

“The blue drive,” Luca whispered.

I nodded slowly.

“He keeps it in the sub-basement of the warehouse on 24th Street,” I said.