He held his phone firmly in his right hand, his thumb resting directly over the master play button on the screen.

The massive monitor on the wall began to glow with a sharp, high-definition feed from the overhead security cameras.

The first clip showed the study.

It was recorded three nights ago, according to the digital timestamp in the upper corner.

The camera angle was high, looking down from the ceiling corner near the bookshelves.

On the screen, the double doors of the study slid open.

Patricia walked in, wearing her gray silk robe.

She did not turn on the overhead lights.

Instead, she used the flashlight on her phone to guide her steps.

She walked straight to my father’s desk.

On the screen, her movements were quick and practiced.

I watched her open the bottom drawer, her fingers wrapping around the brass handle.

She pulled out a thick leather folder.

My sister Martina pressed her shoulder against mine, her breath hitching.

I put my arm around Martina, pulling her closer to my side.

“Emiliano, please,” Patricia whispered, her hand reaching out toward him.