He reached out and slid the open desk drawer shut with a loud, echoey snap.

“Go back to his room where you belong, before I have to tell Vivian.”

I nodded quickly and moved past him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I walked down the long corridor, keeping my arms crossed tightly over my chest to hide the bulk of the papers.

Once inside Ethan’s bedroom, I locked the door behind me and leaned against it.

The silence of the room was comforting, broken only by the steady hum of his heart monitor.

I pulled the blue folder from my sweater and slid it deep under the mattress of the daybed.

Ethan lay in the center of the massive canopy bed, looking as still as death.

His face was pale, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and shallow.

To anyone else, he looked like a statue.

But I knew he was listening, waiting for me to give him the sign.

I walked over and sat on the edge of his mattress, taking his cold hand in mine.