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My gaze doesn’t leave on its own. I have to tug it away. Back to something safe. Something boring. Something nother.

“I’m going upstairs.” Her chair drags over the floor, punctuating her departure.

Not even a second later, a hard thud precedes a low “Ow.”

I glance up from my plate to see Delilah face to face with the wall, rubbing her forehead and down to her arm.

Did she just walk into the fucking wall?

Taking a stuttering step back, she stops short when Victor rounds the corner.

“Oh, hi, Victor.”

“Are you alright, Ms. Rose?”

A self-deprecating laugh.

A nervous rake of her fingers through her hair. And then, “Yeah, just lost my balance for a second. I’m okay.”

She scrambles to walk around his wide frame and vanishes around the corner.

“Sir.” Victor crowds the place she was. “I left some files on your desk. The original will and the one he drew up six weeks before he died.”

“It wasn’t forged?”

“No, sir.”

“No Delilah?”

“No, sir. Alonzo is still working on the video footage.”

Pushing back from the table, I nod. “Okay.”

When I’m standing with my half-full plate, he looks at me expectantly. “Go home, Victor. You’re already here too late.”

“Right.” He inclines his head, sidestepping me so I can walk to the kitchen from the dining room. “And sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy birthday.”

I’msix steps away from my office door when I notice something is off.

Five steps away when I realize this part of the hallway smells too much like vanilla.

Four steps away when I notice my office door is open instead of closed.

Three steps away when I hear papers rustling and the sound of my desk drawers rolling over their tracks in quick succession.

Open.

Shut.

Open.

Shut.

The last two steps are automatic, and I freeze inside the cracked door, watching Delilah in action.