Croft POV
The moment I stepped into the room with my father, the tension was thick enough to taste. I had barely closed the door behind me when I heard the unmistakable hum of authority approaching. The investigation team consisted of men I didn’t know personally, but they came highly recommended.
I had been pacing, trying to process and snatch the truth from my father. But the investigators didn’t care about my thoughts. Their shoes clicked across the marble floor, their eyes scanning every corner of my private study.
They had an air of urgency, the kind that implied they were following a lead that might collapse in a heartbeat if mishandled.
My father glanced at me once, just enough for me to catch the subtle shift in his expression. There was guilt there, but also something else:
