His tie was slightly loosened, his expression unreadable.

“Claire,” he said.

“Yes, Mr. Mercer?” I asked, lowering the ice pack.

“Come with me,” he said.

I looked at Margaret, who gave me a small, warning nod.

I followed Julian out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway.

The Senator was standing by the front door, his heavy winter coat already on.

He looked at me with a cold, triumphant smile.

Julian stopped a few feet away from him.

The Senator reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

It was lit up, showing a document or a map on the screen.

“One word from me, Julian,” the Senator said, his voice dripping with malice. “And your ships stay docked for the next six months.”

He tapped the screen of his phone, and it glowed in the dim hallway.

The light cast a pale blue shadow across Julian’s face.

Julian did not flinch.

He stood with his hands resting in his trouser pockets, his shoulders square and still.

“Your ships do not move without my signature on the harbor authority clearance, Julian,” Senator Whitmore said.