“She’s an orphan who served coffee in my house.

She’s squatting on property bought with stolen money.”

Marcus reached into his uniform pocket, took out a brass key card, and tapped it against the electronic sensor set into the stone pillar.

The heavy black iron gates swung inward on hidden hydraulic hinges without a sound.

Marcus stepped aside and gestured toward the sweeping inner stone drive with a flat palm.

“You may proceed to the central courtyard,” Marcus said smoothly.