I looked toward the heavy double doors of Nathan’s private study at the end of the hallway.

The room he always kept locked.

The room I had not entered in months.

“I have the key,” I said.

“Go get it, Catherine,” Margaret said. “I am on my way to you now.”

I hung up the phone and stood up from the table.

The penthouse was silent except for the sound of the rain.

I walked down the dark hallway, my slippers making no sound on the hardwood floor.

I stopped in front of the study door.

My hand reached into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the small brass key I had taken from Nathan’s dresser weeks ago.

I inserted the key into the lock.

It turned with a heavy, metallic click.

I pushed the door open.

The room was dark, smelling of leather and expensive cigars.

I switched on the desk lamp, casting a warm glow over the mahogany desk.

I went straight for the bottom drawer, where Nathan kept his private files.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the drawer open.