She sat down in my father’s leather chair.

She opened the portfolio and spread several documents across the leather blotter.

Ramiro zoomed the camera in on the desk.

The resolution was high enough to see the seal of a notary at the bottom of the pages.

“Those are my personal files,” my father whispered.

“She has no authorization to touch those.”

“Look at the other screen,” Ramiro said, pointing to a different feed.

The camera outside the side gate showed a black sedan pulling up.

The headlights of the car were turned off.

A man stepped out of the passenger side.

He wore a dark wool overcoat and carried a slim leather briefcase.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Ramiro tapped a few keys to run a facial recognition scan from the gate camera.

A small box popped up on the corner of the screen with a driver’s license photo.

“His name is Arthur Vance,” Ramiro said.

“He is a disbarred attorney who specializes in estate disputes.”

My father’s jaw tightened even further.

“He works for her family’s firm,” my father said.