“Get your hand off the car,” I said.

Rebecca stepped forward, the heels of her designer boots clicking on the wet asphalt.

“Jonathan, we have to go,” Rebecca said, her voice tight. “Harrison is calling. The board meeting starts in twenty minutes.”

I looked past Jonathan, straight into Rebecca’s cold, calculated gaze.

“Tell your uncle that his threats didn’t work forever,” I said.

Jonathan frowned, his grip loosening slightly on the metal frame, but he did not let go.

“What threats?” Jonathan asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Ask Harrison,” I said, my chest aching with the memory.

The smell of wet pavement and exhaust fumes filled the cold air between us.

“He came to my studio six years ago,” I said.

Jonathan’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching my face.

“He told me that if I didn’t disappear, I wouldn’t live to see these children grow up,” I said.

The words felt heavy, like stones dropping into the quiet street.

Rebecca’s face went pale under the streetlamps, though she tried to mask it with a sneer.

“She is lying, Jonathan,” Rebecca said quickly. “She’s trying to manipulate you.”