“Why me?” I asked. “You have people who can break into a building.”

“A forced entry causes questions,” Arthur said. “A smooth invitation does not.”

He tapped the manila folder with a single, manicured finger.

“And you have a very strong motivation to make sure Tristan fails.”

He was right.

The thought of Tristan using Khloe’s money to escape made my stomach turn.

He had ruined my life, and now he was going to walk away clean.

“If I do this,” I said, “you clear my name from those documents?”

“I will destroy the originals,” Arthur promised.

“And the digital copies?” I asked.

“They will vanish.”

I looked at the spreadsheet one more time.

My signature, forged or not, looked exactly like my real handwriting.

“Alright,” I said quietly.

“Good,” Arthur said.

He sat back down in his leather chair.

“Now tell me about the security layout.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out my notebook.

My hands were cold, but they had stopped shaking.

I opened to the page with the floor plan of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.