“I went to check the security feeds from the carriage house system,” Malcolm said, turning the tablet toward me.

“The main power was cut, just like we thought.”

“But the backup battery was fully charged.”

He tapped the screen twice.

“Look at the timestamp from Tuesday night,” he said.

I leaned in, Lydia standing close beside me, her breath fogging in the cold air.

On the screen, a black-and-white video feed began to play.

The camera angle was high, looking down into my father’s private study.

The room was dark, but the infrared lens made everything clear as day.

Two figures were standing in front of the mahogany desk.

One of them was holding a crowbar, wedging it into the gap of the desk drawer.

The face was partially hidden by a dark hood, but the watch on his wrist caught the light.

It was the silver Rolex I had bought Evan for our fifth anniversary.

Beside him, holding a flashlight, was Sloane.

She was pointing the beam directly at the files inside the drawer.

“He didn’t just take the files,” Lydia whispered, her hand coming up to touch her mouth.