In the next room, Sophie let out a soft, tiny cry, then went quiet again.

“We have to go to the office tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Board meeting or not, we must face him in that room.”

“It is a trap, Grace,” Julian warned.

“He will have his security team waiting for you at the entrance.”

“He thinks he has the upper hand because he froze the accounts.”

“But he doesn’t know we have the board’s attention.”

The kitchen floorboards suddenly creaked near the back entrance.

A shadow blocked the yellow porch light outside the kitchen door.

Mrs. Ramirez stood up, her hand pressing against her chest.

Julian stepped in front of me, his hand slipping into his coat pocket where he kept his car keys.

We froze, watching the brass doorknob slowly begin to turn.

The brass doorknob slowly completed its turn.

The lock clicked open.

The door pushed inward, bringing a gust of freezing wind and loose snow across the linoleum floor.

A figure stood in the doorway, wrapped in a damp, expensive cashmere coat.

Her hair was plastered to her cheeks, and her eyelashes were white with frost.