He had not laughed with her.
Promise me.
She had promised.
Then, three months later, he was dead.
Grace’s phone vibrated on the table.
Everyone looked at it.
Unknown number.
A message.
Grace opened it.
No words.
Only a video attachment.
Twelve seconds.
Rebecca said, “Don’t.”
But Grace had already pressed play.
The video showed the hallway outside Grace and Ethan’s house in Greenwich.
Timestamped forty-three minutes earlier.
Someone wearing black gloves entered through the side door.
The person moved directly toward Daniel Bennett’s old study.
Grace’s blood turned to ice.
“That house has an alarm.”
“It should,” Rebecca said.
Grace watched.
The camera changed.
Inside the study.
The intruder did not search drawers.
Did not touch the computer.
Did not look for jewelry.
He went straight to the built-in bookcase.
Pressed a hidden release Grace herself had forgotten existed.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was her father’s old steel lockbox.
