It was tucked tightly into her palm, almost hidden by the lace of her sleeve.

I leaned down, pretending to adjust her shroud.

My fingers pried the silver mirror from her stiff grasp.

Margaret stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood border.

“Leave her things be, Daniel. We need to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” I asked, slipping the mirror into my pocket.

“The cremation is scheduled for tomorrow morning,” Margaret said.

“Tomorrow?” I stared at her. “I just got back. We haven’t even had a service.”

“It was Emily’s wish,” Margaret said quickly.

Caleb shifted his weight, his eyes darting to the corner of the room.

“I need a moment alone with my wife,” I said.

Margaret stared at me, her eyes cold and calculating.

“Don’t take too long,” she said.

She turned and pulled Caleb out of the room.

I heard their hushed voices fading down the long hallway.

I pulled the silver mirror from my pocket.

It was a heavy, antique piece with a double hinge.

The glass was clouded with condensation from my breath.

I used my thumbnail to pry at the seam of the decorative silver backing.

The metal popped loose, revealing a tiny black microSD card taped to the inside of the frame.

My hands were sweating as I peeled the tape away.

I pulled my military-issue phone from my belt.

I slid the tiny card into the external reader slot.

The screen flickered, loading a single folder labeled *Reinsurance*.

Inside were PDFs of bank transfers and forged signatures.

I scrolled down the documents.

There was my mother’s signature, Margaret Reed.

Next to it was Caleb’s name, authorizing a transfer of five million dollars from Emily’s trust fund.

Caleb’s debts had been mounting for years, but this was different.

The date of the last transfer was yesterday.

Three days after Emily’s certified time of death.