I closed my eyes. I pictured my father’s face. I pictured Natalie draped in my grandmother’s diamonds. I pictured the psychiatric hold Julian had pre-signed. I forced the panic into a tight, hard box and slammed the lid shut. I wiped my thumb sharply against the silk of my blouse.
Four.
Three.
I pressed my thumb to the glass again, my hand steady as carved marble.
Two…
A soft, pneumatic hiss filled the air. The light glowed a serene emerald green. The heavy steel door recessed and slid open, revealing the cavernous dark of the safe.
Inside rested a black leather dossier, two encrypted hard drives, my father’s gold fountain pen, and the original, unaltered prenuptial agreement drafted twenty-one years ago. Julian had called it a grotesque insult to our love. My father had called it an insurance policy against parasites.
