Ryker stepped in front of me, his hand resting on the holster under his tailored jacket.

Marco drew his weapon, keeping it low against his thigh, his eyes locked on the doorway.

The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the wet, rhythmic squeak of leather shoes on the marble floor.

A tall woman in a dark gray trench coat stepped into the warm light of the study.

It was Sarah Vance, Ryker’s lead corporate attorney, her dark hair damp from the rain.

She was holding a thick, red expansion folder tightly against her chest.

Behind her stood two of her junior associates, both looking pale and clutching leather briefcases.

“I used the emergency bypass code, Ryker,” Sarah said, her voice shaking slightly from the cold.

“I couldn’t wait for your security team to clear us at the front gate.”

Ryker slowly lowered his hand from his jacket, though his shoulders remained rigid.

“What is it, Sarah?” Ryker asked, his voice low.

“We found something in the probate files,” she said, stepping further into the room.

She unbuttoned her wet coat, letting it drape over the back of a leather chair.