“They don’t know,” Caroline said, her eyes widening.

“No,” I said. “They have no idea they own the ridge.”

“If they find out, they can block the sale,” she said.

“They can do more than block it,” I said. “They can claim the land.”

Outside, a heavy branch snapped.

We both froze.

The sound came from the path just above the boathouse.

Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel.

“Clara?” Marcus’s voice was louder now, strained with anger.

“I know you’re down here,” he called out.

His shadow passed across the small, grime-covered window of the boathouse.

The beam of his flashlight swept over the wooden door.

I pressed my back against the stone wall, holding my breath.

Beside me, Caroline shrank back into the shadows.

She gripped my sleeve, her fingers shaking.

“We can talk about this,” Marcus said, his voice closer now.

He was standing just outside the door.

“You don’t want to do this, Clara,” he said.

“Warren is already at the courthouse,” he continued.

“The deal is going through whether you like it or not,” he said.