One of the police officers stepped forward and took the key from Marcus’s hand.

They ordered him out of the car.

He complied without a fight, pressing his forehead against the roof of the black sedan as they handcuffed him.

Alexander watched the arrest in silence.

The wind rustled the dead leaves along the edge of the driveway.

“The safe was never opened,” Alexander said, turning back toward the house.

“The biometric scanner would have alerted my phone if anyone tried to force it.”

“But she tried,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “She tried.”

We walked back through the iron gates.

The security team closed them behind us, the heavy locks clicking into place with a sound of absolute finality.

Inside the foyer, the air was warm and smelled of beeswax and old wood.

The house felt larger now, emptier.

The other suitors were gone.

Vivian had been escorted out an hour ago, her loud protests still echoing in my mind.

She had threatened lawsuits, her voice rising to a shriek as she was led to her limousine.