I quickly gathered the papers, stuffing them back into the manila envelope and tucking it deep inside my coat.

I walked out of the vault, my chest tight with a mixture of grief and blinding rage.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Claire?” Mr. Vance asked as he locked the vault behind me.

“Yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

The cold air outside hit me like a physical blow, clearing the fog from my brain.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Thomas: *Are you safe? Did you find the documents?*

I didn’t reply; instead, I started the car and drove back toward Hartwell House, the tires throwing gravel as I sped up the driveway.

When I pushed the heavy oak front door open, the house was dead silent.

But as I stepped into the foyer, I saw Patricia sitting in the parlor, a silver tea service on the table in front of her.

She looked up, her eyes dropping immediately to the slight bulge of the envelope hidden beneath my buttoned coat.