Derek stared at me through the rain-streaked window, his eyes filled with a quiet, burning hatred.

Then the door slammed shut, cutting off his gaze.

The lead agent walked over to Vincent and nodded.

“We have the hard drives from his office,” the agent said.

“The templates for the forged seals were all there.”

“Thank you, Agent Harris,” Vincent said, shaking the man’s hand.

“The Vance estate can finally be settled correctly.”

“We will need a statement from Miss Vance tomorrow,” Harris said, looking at me.

“Of course,” I said.

The courtyard slowly cleared as the emergency vehicles drove away, leaving only the crushed iron gates as evidence of the violence.

Vincent turned to me, the rain dripping from the brim of his dark hat.

“Let us go inside,” he said.

“The cold is not good for you.”

We walked back into the warmth of the villa.

The air inside smelled of beeswax, old paper, and woodsmoke from the fireplace.

Gianna brought us hot tea in delicate porcelain cups, her hands shaking slightly.

We sat in Vincent’s private study, surrounded by rows of leather-bound books.