The snow muffled the sound of my boots.

I reached the wrought-iron fence that marked the boundary of my estate.

The gate was locked, but I bypassed the electronic keypad in under ten seconds using a jumper wire.

I slipped through the gap and closed the gate behind me.

The main house loomed ahead, a massive stone structure with dark windows.

Only the kitchen and the master bedroom on the second floor showed signs of light.

I made my way toward the eastern terrace, staying close to the stone retaining wall.

My hands were cold, but my grip on the lockpicks was firm.

I reached the glass French doors that led into the library.

This was the room where Grant kept his financial records.

It was also the room directly below the master suite.

I knelt in front of the door lock, feeling the tumblers slide into place with a series of quiet clicks.

The lock yielded.

I pushed the door open an inch, listening for any sign of an alarm.

The security panel beside the door was flashing green, indicating the delay was active.