It was nearly midnight when Victoria finally opened her laptop in the Master Suite. The house was asleep. She scrolled through her flagged items until she reached the email that had been nagging at her subconscious for weeks.
*Subject: Zurich Inquiries.*
*From: Banque Privée Edmond de Rothschild.*
She clicked it open.
*Dear Executor, Per the automated trust protocols initiated by the death of Alistair Croft, we are verifying beneficiaries for Account #8890. Please confirm the validity of the attached birth certificate for the claimant.*
Victoria frowned. “Claimant?”
She hovered the cursor over the attachment: *Certificate_of_Birth_1994.pdf*.
Just as she moved to click, a sharp, piercing wail erupted from the bassinet next to the bed. Hope had woken from a nightmare, screaming with a lung capacity that rivaled her mother’s.
Victoria slammed the laptop shut, severing the digital connection. She scooped up her daughter, rocking her back to sleep, the email unread and the file unopened. The secret remained trapped in the silicon, waiting for the party to begin.