Author's point of view

Edith's silk robe stroked the shimmering oak floor as she paced the length of her sumptuous bedroom. The walls were lined with priceless artwork, pieces of heritage so delicately etched throughout the years. But tonight, none of that brought her the normal peace; the weight of Marcus's charges was like a smothering blanket, and her mind was racing in fear.

"How did he know?" She grumbled to herself as shoes snapped against the floor. "I hid my tracks. All accounts and transfers entirely secret."

But the material Marcus had presented earlier that day in the council meeting spoke of another story altogether. He was getting closer,...