“Eleanor said there was a false back to the bottom shelf,” I murmured.

I knelt on the cold floor, my fingers searching the dusty wood.

I felt a small seam in the backing of the lower cabinet.

I pressed it hard.

With a soft click, a small compartment popped open.

Inside lay a thick, leather-bound book and a bundle of letters tied with a blue ribbon.

I reached in and pulled them out.

My mother’s neat, precise handwriting covered the first page of the ledger.

It was the true record of the Bennett Foundation.

“We have it,” I whispered, looking up at Gabriel.

Before Gabriel could answer, the lights of a car swept across the study window.

The bright beams cut through the darkness, illuminating the dust motes in the air.

The sound of a heavy engine died outside.

A car door slammed.

Gabriel grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the window.

“He’s here,” Gabriel whispered.

In the driveway below, the headlights of a black Mercedes remained on, shining directly at the front door.

A figure emerged from the vehicle, holding an umbrella against the storm.