Obviously, we had been proven wrong, though.

Someone had hacked our CCTV feed, so the two men watching the screens hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary when my office had been ransacked. The two men who had been stationed in the lobby, their desk facing the revolving front doors, hadn’t seen anyone come or go except for my personal assistant, who had come in for the files she’d forgotten the night before that she needed to prep for a meeting later in the week. And the two men who spent the entire shift walking each floor of the building had been a good ten floors below mine at the time.

No other employees besides those seven people—the security guards and my personal assistant—had even been in the building. So, either someone was lying and had gone frantically looking through my office for something…

Or they had helped them do it.

The only question was, which one?

But the craziest thing about the entire situation was that, despite all the destruction done to the office, everything was accounted for. And even if they had stolen something, there was nothing in any of the files in either CeCe’s office or my own that anyone would actually want. Especially not one of our enemies.

If they had wanted details on a certain employee, they would have gone looking in the human resources offices. If they wanted information on a construction project, past or present, they would have gone to that floor. Not mine.

The way things had been shredded and broken, the violent way everything had been upended and smashed, felt personal. Someone had been looking for something about me specifically, and my office was the only place they could have easily gotten it.

Until we found out what was going on, my family had added extra security measures to not only my detail, but my sister’s and cousins’ as well. I’d called Jet myself the night before and told him to keep Nova in sight at all times. If someone was out to hurt me, everyone knew the only way to accomplish that was through her.

While Pop continued to make the security guards tremble in fear, I went over my office again in my memory, looking for anything I might have missed. Given the chaos of the room, it was hard to figure out if anything in particular had been the focus.

The only personal items I had were two pictures. One from when Nova was younger that someone had taken at some Hannigan celebration I’d surprised her by showing up at. Her mom had snapped the picture of Nova jumping into my arms and emailed it to Mom, who had printed it out and framed it for me.

That frame had been shattered as if someone had thrown it against the wall and then stomped it with a heavy, booted foot. And the other picture…

“Fuck,” I muttered, squeezing the bridge of my nose as a headache began to pound behind my eyeballs.