“We are not going upstairs,” I said. “Colonel, secure the glass. Do not let anyone touch it.”

Hayes did not move. He stood like a statue, the glass held level.

The rain outside battered the high glass windows of the ballroom, a relentless, drumming beat.

Richard’s hand remained inside his jacket pocket.

“Natalie, please,” Richard said, his tone dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “You are ruining this family. For what? A shadow?”

“I saw the logs, Dad,” I said. “I saw the shipping manifests from the depot.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed, the warmth completely vanishing from his face.

“Those are classified military documents,” Colonel Hayes said, his voice dropping an octave.

“They are forged documents,” I corrected, looking Hayes dead in the eye. “And your signature is at the bottom of them.”

A cold draft swept through the ballroom as one of the side doors to the courtyard rattled in the wind.

Nobody spoke.

The guests stood frozen, their champagne flutes half-raised, caught in the middle of a nightmare.

Richard slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket, his fingers curled around a small, white paper packet.