Luca did not move.

He looked at the stairs, then back at me.

“He is my brother,” Luca said.

“But he is not a good man.”

Sophia picked up a small black pen from the desk and began rolling it between her fingers.

The click of the plastic was sharp and rhythmic.

“If you stay, Elena, you lose your leverage,” Sophia said.

“The shipping docks were your only clean exit.”

“They were a temporary escape,” I said.

“The moment the baby was born, Marcus would have used every resource in the Midwest to find us.”

“He would have bribed the border guards.”

“He would have hired the private investigators who specialize in tracking families.”

“I would have spent my life looking at every passing car.”

I touched the cold glass of the windowpane.

My reflection looked thin, almost transparent against the dark garden outside.

“I am tired of being afraid,” I said.

“I spent six years sitting in the corner of his study while he made his phone calls.”

“I poured his scotch.”

“I smiled at his associates.”

“They thought I was a pretty ornament he bought in his thirties.”