Her name sounded far too alive in such an empty room.

Behind a sliding mahogany panel was the safe. Heavy iron. Old dial. I’d always preferred machines with substance, things that demanded a human touch. The lock clicked sharply through the silence.

I opened it and took out the leather-bound ledger where I recorded assets, transfers, property agreements, investment accounts, and private loans.

I kept digital records of everything, of course.

But I trusted paper, because paper never flatters you. It simply waits for you to read it.

I set the ledger on the oak desk, switched on the brass lamp, and got to work.