The helicopter ride was brief. They landed on the roof of the Swiss Bank tower.
The bank manager met them at the elevator. He was sweating. "Mr. Wolfe. Mrs... Wolfe."
It was the first time anyone had called her that. It sounded like a threat.
They went down into the bowels of the earth. Three layers of security. Steel doors thick enough to stop a tank.
They stood before the final vault.
"Bio-metric scan required," the manager said.
Araminta stepped forward. She leaned into the retinal scanner. A red laser swept across her eye.
Identity Confirmed: Araminta Donaldson.
The massive circular door hissed. The hydraulic locks disengaged with a deep, resonant thrum. The door swung open.
Araminta walked in. Alfonse followed.
The air inside was stale and dry. There were shelves lined with boxes.
Araminta went to the box marked with her mother's initials. Her hands shook as she opened it.
Inside, there were stacks of paper.
Bearer bonds, hundreds of them, with coupons attached that looked like sheets of stamps. Alfonse picked one up, his eyes narrowing. "These are pre-war sovereign bonds. Untraceable. The face value here..." he did a quick calculation in his head, "...is staggering. Billions, not millions."
But Araminta wasn't looking at the bonds. She was looking at a thick, leather-bound folder at the bottom.
She pulled it out. It wasn't a deed. It was a complex lease agreement, filled with arcane legal jargon, and a single, ornate key.
The document detailed a 99-year irrevocable lease on a property known only by its geographic coordinates to a shell corporation registered in Lichtenstein. It was impenetrable.
Araminta gasped. She turned to Alfonse, her face a mask of confusion. "I don't understand. What is this?"
Alfonse took the deed from her hands. He read it. His jaw tightened.
"This is old-money magic, Araminta," he said quietly. "A legal fortress. The bank didn't own the property they sold me at auction; they only owned the shell corporation that held this lease. Your mother outsmarted all of them."
Araminta felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rising in her chest. "So... I own the lease? To what?"
The power dynamic in the room shifted instantly. The air crackled.
Alfonse looked at her. For a moment, she thought he would be angry. Instead, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Well," he said, stepping closer, crowding her against the shelf. "It seems I married a very rich woman."
He held up the key. "Whatever this unlocks, it's the final piece of the puzzle. We are partners now, Araminta. Whether we like it or not."
Alfonse reached out and ran a hand down her arm. "You are my wife. That makes you mine. But now... now you have teeth."
He leaned in, his lips inches from hers.
"Let's go use them. Javen thinks you're on the run. Let's show him you just bought the hunting ground."
Araminta grabbed the bonds and the folder. She shoved them into her bag.
"I want to pick up Griffin," she said. "In a convoy. With sirens."
Alfonse adjusted his cuffs. "Elena is already arranging it. Let's go, Mrs. Wolfe."
As they walked out of the vault, Araminta didn't limp. The pain in her ankle was gone, replaced by the adrenaline of vengeance.
Javen was done. He just didn't know it yet.
