He was the co-founder of Caldwell Holdings, Ethan’s long-time partner, and a man whose smile never reached his eyes.

Beside him walked a younger man carrying a thick leather briefcase.

Their leather shoes clicked sharply against the clean linoleum floor.

Ethan did not move, but I felt the air around him turn cold.

“Richard,” Ethan said.

His voice was flat, devoid of any welcome.

Vance stopped three feet away, brushing a flake of melting snow from his cashmere lapel.

“Ethan,” Vance said, looking around the sterile corridor with apparent distaste. “I had hoped the rumors were exaggerated.”

He looked at Dr. Rao, then at me, his gaze lingering on my faded winter coat.

“They aren’t,” Vance added softly.

Dr. Rao stepped back, her hand tightening on her clipboard.

“This is a restricted area,” she said, her voice firm but quiet. “Only family is allowed in this wing.”

Vance gave a small, dry chuckle.

“We are family in all the ways that matter, Doctor,” Vance said. “Caldwell Holdings pays for half the equipment in this wing.”

He turned his attention back to Ethan.