My father had always been a quiet man, observing everything from his leather armchair in the library.

He had never liked Evan, though he never said it aloud to me while he was alive.

Now, the rough edges of the paper began to tear under my touch.

The red seal cracked down the middle, splitting the letter *H* into two jagged pieces.

I pulled out the single sheet of thick, lined paper from the envelope.

My father’s sharp, elegant handwriting filled the page in dark blue ink.

My heart hammered against my ribs as my eyes found the first line.

“My dearest Claire,” my father’s letter began.

“If you are reading this, my suspicions have been proven correct, and Evan has attempted to breach the vault.”

I held the paper under the streetlamp, the yellow light catching the steady blue ink.

“I knew about Sloane Pierce before you did.”

“I saw them together at the lakeside lodge last winter, when he told you he was negotiating a property acquisition.”

“He believed my silence was a sign of my decline.”