I looked down at my phone, which was lighting up again with a new notification.

I tapped the screen of my phone, the blue light reflecting off the dark wood of Julian’s desk.

The notification was an email alert from an automated system I had set up years ago, back when I still managed the joint development accounts for Bennett Urban Systems.

It was a security ping.

A primary authorization code had been entered from an unrecognized IP address in downtown Chicago.

“It’s the reserve account,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The one we set up for the riverfront easement.”

Julian leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. “How much is left in that account, Claire?”

“Four point two million,” I said. “It was the only liquid asset Adrian had left after the Boston project halted.”

I looked out the window at the gray Chicago rain streaking the glass.

The city lights were beginning to blink on, casting long, wet shadows across the street below.

“She’s emptying it,” Julian said.