The green exit sign hummed overhead, a faint, irritating buzz.

Then the heavy double doors swung open.

Ethan walked in.

His tie was loosened, his hair messy, and his coat was damp from the light rain outside.

He didn’t look at me with concern or relief.

He looked straight at my father.

“Where is it?” Ethan demanded, his voice echoing off the linoleum floor.

“You need to lower your voice, Ethan,” my father said, stepping between us.

“I don’t care about my voice, Colonel,” Ethan spat, taking another step forward. “I know what you did. You had my mother and sister arrested.”

“They committed a crime,” I said, finding my voice from behind my father’s shoulder.

Ethan finally looked at me, his eyes cold and accusing.

“They were trying to protect our family’s future, Hannah,” he said. “And you ruined it. You recorded private conversations in our own home.”

“They abused me, Ethan,” I said. “They kept me locked up. They tried to take my baby.”

“They were trying to help you,” Ethan said, his voice rising. “You’re unstable. Everyone knows it.”