“Before we head back to the office, you should look at this,” Lydia said, holding it out to me.

“What is it?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“The courier delivered it to my office this afternoon,” she said.

“It was held in your father’s personal safe at the law firm, with very specific instructions.”

I took the envelope from her hand, noting the heavy weight of the parchment.

The wax seal on the back bore my father’s initials, *A.H.*, pressed into dark red wax.

The seal was fully intact, unbroken.

“He left instructions that it was only to be delivered to you if Evan attempted to breach the estate vault,” Lydia said.

“Your father knew how Evan operated, Claire.”

My fingers brushed the rough edge of the heavy paper.

The wind stirred the dry leaves on the sidewalk, making a scraping sound against the concrete.

I looked back at the glowing windows of Sloane’s second-story dining room.

Behind the sheer curtains, I could see the frantic silhouettes of Evan and Sloane arguing, their arms waving.

I slipped my thumb under the edge of the heavy wax seal.