She reached for the top drawer of the mahogany desk, her fingers trembling.

“Don’t touch that, Miranda,” Elias said.

His voice was steady, despite the darkness and the cold wind howling outside.

The library doors swung open with a low creak.

The beam of a strong flashlight cut through the darkness, blinding me for a second.

“Turn that off,” Julian said, raising his hand to block the light.

The flashlight lowered, revealing the silhouette of a tall man in a wet trench coat.

It was Nathaniel Vale.

Behind him stood two men in dark, identical suits.

They carried leather briefcases and wore silver badges pinned to their lapels.

“Nathaniel,” Miranda gasped, her voice recovering its sharp edge. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“I am executing the final wishes of Arthur Sterling, Miranda,” Nathaniel said.

He stepped into the room, his wet boots leaving dark prints on the Persian rug.

The two men behind him remained at the door, their faces expressionless.

“The police will be here in minutes,” Miranda said, pointing a finger at him. “You are trespassing.”