I opened it, the pages filled with my mother’s neat handwriting, documenting every asset and the legal charter of the secondary trust.

Suddenly, the lights in the vault flickered.

The low hum of the building’s ventilation system cut out, leaving the vault in near-total darkness.

Only the emergency backup lights glowed, casting a dim, red light over the room.

I froze, my hand clutching the ledger to my chest.

From the stairs above, I heard the heavy sound of the bank’s side door opening, followed by footsteps echoing down the concrete corridor.

I pressed my back against the cold steel of the safety deposit boxes.

The red light painted the metal walls a dull, bloody color.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the footsteps drew closer.

They were heavy, deliberate, and clicking sharply on the concrete floor.

“Claire?” a voice whispered.

The tension in my shoulders broke, and I let out a long breath.

It was Daniel.

He stepped into the vault room, his jacket damp from the rain outside.

His face was pale under the crimson glow of the emergency bulb.