The drawer slid open with a quiet creak.
My fingers trembled as I reached inside.
William stood beside me, his breath shallow, his body tense. Waiting.
And then—I found it.
A stack of files. A flash drive. And at the very bottom—a handwritten letter.
The sight of my father’s familiar handwriting sent a chill through me.
I sank into the chair, my pulse pounding in my ears.
William crouched beside me, his eyes scanning the documents. “Emerald… these aren’t just company files.”
I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
He held up a page. And my blood ran cold.
Because right there, in black ink—was Bernard’s signature.
William flipped through the pages. “These are contracts.” His voice was grim. “Deals Bernard made before your father died.”
I snatched the papers from him, my eyes racin
