“Or he used to, before he lost his license.”

On the screen, the side door of the mansion clicked open.

Patricia had left it unlocked.

The man in the overcoat slipped inside.

He walked quietly through the service corridor, avoiding the main areas.

He seemed to know exactly where the cameras were, though he did not know we were watching from the hidden room.

He reached the door of the study.

Patricia stood up to greet him.

She did not shake his hand.

She simply pointed to the armchair across from the desk.

The man sat down and opened his briefcase.

He pulled out a blue folder and placed it next to Patricia’s documents.

“Ramiro, can we get the audio in the study?” my father asked.

“The microphones are hidden in the bookshelves,” Ramiro said.

He adjusted a slider on the physical audio board.

A soft hiss came through the speakers, followed by the sound of paper rustling.

“Did you bring the draft?” Patricia’s voice was clear now.

“I have it right here,” the man said.

“But we need to be careful, Patricia.”