“Mr. Croft,” I said, closing the doors behind me. “Ruth said you were waiting for me.”

“I was,” he said, taking a slow sip of his drink.

He set the glass down on the mahogany table with a soft clink.

“I understand you made a visit to your father’s private safe this morning,” he said.

“I did,” I replied, walking over to the desk.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Daniel,” he said, leaning forward.

“Some things are meant to remain buried.”

“Like the truth about my sons?” I asked, my voice rising slightly.

“Like the fraud your father committed to secure your inheritance,” Croft said, his eyes narrowing.

He reached into his leather briefcase, which sat open on the floor beside his chair.

He pulled out a thick document bound in blue paper and laid it on the table.

“I suggest you sit down, Daniel,” he said, his voice dropping to a cold whisper.

“We have a great deal to discuss.”

I did not sit down.

I walked over to the tall arched window and looked out at the rain streaking the glass.