Alden ignored Rowan’s groan and flipped the lid fully. Instead of gold, stacks of folders and sealed envelopes stared back at him. His face twisted with disappointment. “Just papers?” he snarled, rifling through them anyway. “Fine. If this is all there is, I’ll still make them pay me.”
As Alden yanked out a bundle, a familiar slant of ink caught Rowan’s eye. On the top page, beneath smudged headings, he saw his surname—Hale—written in his father’s old, careful hand. Shock sliced through the pain. He lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the folder Alden held.