The caller ID showed a name I didn’t recognize, but Ethan’s expression changed instantly from shock to pure fury.

He slid his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Richard,” Ethan said into the phone, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet rumble.

Ethan pressed the speaker button on his phone and held it out between us.

The plastic case of the device was cold, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor.

“I am listening, Richard,” Ethan said.

His voice was too quiet, the kind of quiet that meant he was holding back a physical strike.

A dry, coughing laugh came through the small speaker.

“I see you finally looked at the file,” Richard said.

The reception was clear, though the background noise on his end sounded like a quiet office or a car interior.

“You signed it,” Ethan said, his fingers tightening around the edge of the phone.

“I did what had to be done for the firm, Ethan,” Richard replied, his voice completely devoid of regret.

I watched a drop of sweat run down the side of Ethan’s temple, disappearing into his collar.