I stood by the dining table, my hand still resting on the cold glass of the Lafite.

I looked at the briefcase Cole Brantley had brought.

“What is in there, Cole?” I asked.

Cole didn’t answer.

Lydia reached over and flipped the brass latches of the briefcase.

They popped open with a sharp click.

Lydia lifted the lid.

Inside were neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills, bound in white paper bands.

And next to the cash was a thick manila folder labeled *Hayes Estate – Private Inventory*.

“My father’s actual ledger,” I said, recognizing his neat, cursive handwriting on the tab.

“Evan told me to bring the cash from the last buyer,” Cole whispered. “And to return the ledger so he could burn it.”

I looked at Evan, who was staring at the floor, his jaw tight.

“You were going to burn my father’s records,” I said.

He didn’t look at me.

“Answer me, Evan,” I said.

“It was just paper, Claire,” he muttered. “You were obsessing over a dead man’s garbage.”

I took a deep breath, keeping my composure, refusing to let him see me cry.