“She said she wanted to keep all our travel documents in one place,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But now… now I think she wanted to make sure I couldn’t leave.”

“Listen to me,” I said. “Get your keys. Drive to my apartment right now. We will figure out the passport later.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m already back in the driveway. If she sees my car is gone too long, she’ll know.”

“Ethan, don’t go back inside,” I pleaded.

“I have to,” he said. “I have to play the part for a little longer. Just until I can get my papers.”

The line went dead before I could argue.

I let my hand fall to my lap, the phone slipping onto the cushion.

My brother was trapped in a house built on secrets, and the doors were locking one by one.

I stood up and walked to the window, pulling the edge of the curtain back.

The street below was dark and slick with rain.

A single car was parked across the street, its engine idling, a thin plume of exhaust rising into the cold air.