The elevator doors opened silently onto the fourteenth floor of the glass skyscraper. Clara's heels made no sound on the plush charcoal carpet as she walked toward the corner suite.
Clara: Please let this card work. Just this once.
The electronic sensor blinked from flashing amber to solid green, and the heavy mahogany door clicked open with a quiet hiss.
Clara: Okay. Focus, Clara. Desk drawers first, safe second.
She pulled a small flashlight from her coat pocket, sweeping the beam over mahogany bookcases and framed photographs of luxury yachts.
Security Guard: Excuse me, ma'am? Can I ask what you're doing on this floor after midnight?
Clara whipped around, her heart hammering against her ribs as she saw the uniformed guard standing in the doorway.
Clara: Officer Henderson! Oh, thank goodness you're here. You scared me to death.
Security Guard: Ms. Clara? Mr. Vance didn't mention you would be stopping by tonight.
Clara: I know, it's completely silly. Julian left his family heirloom cufflinks inside the credenza behind his desk, and his mother insisted he wear them tomorrow morning.
Security Guard: At two-thirty in the morning, ma'am?
Clara: You know how the Vance family is about traditions. If he doesn't have them before the photographer arrives at eight, he'll fire the entire planning committee.
The guard hesitated, his radio crackling with static on his shoulder harness.
Security Guard: I understand. Mr. Vance can be... demanding about schedules. Do you need any help finding them?
Clara: No, thank you! I know exactly where the drawer is. I'll just be two minutes and lock up on my way out.
Security Guard: All right, ma'am. Just make sure the door latches completely when you exit. Congratulations on tomorrow, by the way.
Clara: Thank you, Henderson. You're a lifesaver.
As soon as the guard's footsteps faded down the hallway, Clara darted behind the massive desk and opened the lower filing drawer with trembling fingers.
Clara: 'Trust Fund Reallocation'... 'Custody Settlement: Miller vs. Vance'... 'Offshore Holdings Cayman'. Bingo.
She pulled out her smartphone, snapping high-resolution photos of every single signature, stamped notary seal, and bank account balance.
Clara: Eighty-four million dollars... and he offered Elena three hundred dollars a month in child support claiming zero income. What a monster.
Her screen flashed with an incoming call from Julian: *Where are you? Your bedroom lights are off.*