I reached inside, my fingers brushing against the dusty paper.

I pulled out the leather book first.

It was the original ledger from thirty years ago.

Below it was a folded parchment document with a gold seal.

My eyes scanned the elegant cursive handwriting at the top of the page.

It was a partnership deed.

“Lila Wren and Margaret Bell,” I read aloud, my voice cracking.

“This is the original deed for the property.”

“It proves they were equal partners,” Mr. Alvarez whispered.

I flipped the page and saw the signatures at the bottom.

But before I could read any further, a sharp sound echoed from the corridor behind us.

The heavy iron gate we had just walked through slammed shut.

A bright light flooded the narrow basement hallway.

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed on the concrete floor.

I froze, holding the document tightly against my chest.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” a voice called out from the darkness.

The footsteps came closer, steady and unhurried.

I stuffed the document into my jacket pocket and stood up, shielding Mr. Alvarez.