Ethan looked at me, his gray eyes catching the dim green light of the desk lamp.

He saw the panic on my face and turned back to the intercom.

“Tell him to leave the documents in the security box at the gate,” Ethan commanded. “Nobody enters the house tonight.”

“Understood, sir,” Jeffries said, and the line went dead.

On the screen, the black sedan remained still for a long moment.

Then, its red taillights flared, and it slowly backed away into the thick fog.

I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.

“My uncle is watching this house,” Ethan said, his voice barely a whisper.

He closed the heavy steel door of the safe and spun the dial.

He slid the painting back into place over the keypad, concealing it once more.

“He wants me gone,” I said, looking down at my hands. “If he finds out what your father did, he will throw Lily and me onto the street.”

Ethan walked over to where I stood and stopped just a foot away.

The scent of cedarwood and rain clung to his wool sweater.