Beside the seam, hidden behind a wooden wine rack, was a small, black electronic panel.

The light on the panel was glowing a steady, angry red.

Nathan shone the flashlight on it.

“This isn’t connected to the main house security,” he muttered.

“It’s a completely separate system.”

I stepped forward and swiped the black card across the sensor.

The red light blinked once, then turned a bright, solid green.

A low hum vibrated through the stone floor as a section of the wall began to slide back.

The smell of ozone and old paper drifted out from the opening.

The beam of Nathan’s flashlight cut through the darkness inside.

The vault was a small, windowless room lined with steel filing cabinets.

And standing in the center of the room, holding a stack of leather-bound ledgers, was Richard.

He froze, his face caught in the bright beam of the flashlight.

He looked like a wild animal cornered in its den.

“Put them down, Father,” Nathan said, his voice echoing in the confined space.

Richard did not move.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver lighter.