He adjusted his coat, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer.

“He called an emergency meeting of the board for tomorrow morning,” Jonathan added. “He wants to discuss the ‘stability’ of the family legacy.”

“Are you going?” I asked.

“I have to,” Jonathan said. “If I don’t show up, he wins by default.”

He reached for the doorknob, then paused.

“Keep the door locked, Mariana,” he said.

“I always do,” I replied.

I watched him walk down the stairs, his shadow stretching long and thin against the plaster wall.

I closed the door and turned the deadbolt, the metal mechanism clicking into place with a heavy, final sound.

I went to the window to watch him leave, just as I had three nights ago.

The street below was beginning to grow dark as the winter afternoon faded.

Jonathan emerged from the building, his collar pulled up against the cold wind.

He walked toward his silver SUV parked near the hydrant.

Before he could reach the door, a long, black limousine pulled up smoothly beside him, blocking his path.