He wrapped his long fingers around the mug and took a slow sip. His eyes held the glow of the coals. “Yes. It’s finally done.”

I sank onto the sofa across from him and pulled a wool blanket over my legs. Exhaustion was going into my bones like cold. But a splinter had lodged somewhere behind my ribs and I couldn’t leave it alone.

The ledger in the vault. Three years of it, in his handwriting. The impossible precision of everything about tonight.

“Grandpa.” I hesitated. “How long did you know they were stealing from you?”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t look over. He kept his eyes on the fire.

“Three years.”