She picked up her handbag, walked past my father — who was being eased back against a pew by two agents — and stopped in front of the lead investigator.

“The secondary offshore ledgers for the Honor Bound Trust are in a safe behind the oil painting in Harrow’s study at the house,” she said, her voice flat and cool and entirely unbothered.

“The key is in my bag.

I emailed your task force the encryption codes this morning.”

My father’s head snapped toward her, his face going a dark, furious purple.

“Marielle?