The phone vibrated against his palm, the low hum rattling the silver signet ring on his finger.

The name *Arthur Vance* flashed in bright green letters across the black screen.

Before Nathan could slide his thumb across the glass, a shadow fell over the threshold.

Eleanor had not left.

She stood in the doorway of the study, her leather gloves already pulled tight over her fingers.

A cold gust of wind from the open front door stirred the hem of her dark coat.

“Go ahead,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Answer it.”

Nathan did not move.

The phone continued to buzz, its screen casting a pale green glow over his tight jaw.

“Arthur is very eager to hear about the budget review,” Eleanor said, taking a slow step back into the room. “But I imagine he would be far more interested in learning that the man running the company is not a Carter at all.”

I stepped closer to Nathan, my hand finding his arm.

His muscles were as hard as iron under his wool sleeve.