The mansion slept like a held breath — all velvet curtains, dark staircases, and the soft, steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. But in the study, the night never truly rested.
Jacob moved like a shadow in his own home: swift, careful, his footsteps muffled against the Persian rug. The drawer had been touched. He had felt it the moment he returned from the office and found the ledger slightly ajar; the faint smear on the leather’s corner told him someone had rifled through the pages. He had watched the CCTV footage earlier and seen a late-night silhouette — David’s broad shoulders framed by the study door. The sight settled in Jacob like a small, cold stone.
He closed the study door behind him and let the key click twice for good measure. The house was quiet but not safe. Not
