“Let me go, Nathan,” I whispered, looking down at the damp stone between us.

“I can’t do that,” he said, stepping into the mudroom and closing the heavy door behind him.

The click of the latch sounded incredibly loud in the small, cold space.

He looked at my suitcase, then up at my face.

“You were leaving,” he said.

“It’s better this way,” I said, my voice shaking. “Your mother is right. I don’t belong in Greenwich.”

“My mother is wrong about everything,” Nathan said, taking a step closer to me.

He reached out, his hand gently grasping my wrist.

His skin was cold, but his grip was firm and steady.

“Look at me, Emily,” he murmured.

I kept my eyes on the floor, staring at the wet tracks his boots had left on the slate.

“I saw the document,” I said, holding up the phone with my free hand.

The screen was still glowing, displaying the blue state seal and the name printed in bold black ink.

Nathan didn’t look surprised.

He let go of my wrist and took the phone from my fingers.