“Standard procedure doesn’t involve stealing from tenants, Arthur,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

Arthur looked at me, his eyes narrowing into a glare that used to make me tremble at Brindlewood.

“Claire,” he said, his tone turning sharp and dismissive. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here.”

“You’re a tenant who is behind on her rent. You have no business in this tower.”

“She is here as my guest,” Nathaniel intervened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“And she has brought some very interesting things to my attention.”

Arthur looked between the two of us, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He tried to smooth down his jacket, but his fingers were shaking.

“Mr. Graves, you can’t believe anything this woman says,” Arthur said, stepping closer.

“She has been a problem tenant for years. Always complaining, always making excuses.”

“I have the eviction notice right here,” I said, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from my coat pocket.

I held it up so the emergency light caught the bold, red lettering.

“You signed this yourself, Arthur. You gave us three days to get out.”