I quickly minimized the banking window and closed the laptop halfway.

The bedroom door opened.

Ethan stood in the doorway, his jacket in his hand.

“I’m going back to the office,” he said. “Arthur wants me there for a private meeting before the formal committee convenes tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I said, keeping my voice level.

He looked at the desk, his eyes lingering on my leather briefcase and the laptop.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just organizing some gallery files,” I said.

He stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“We’re going to get through this, Clara,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “But don’t do anything rash. Don’t speak to any lawyers yet.”

“I’ll do what I need to do, Ethan.”

He stared at me for another second, as if trying to read my thoughts.

“I’ll be late,” he said.

He turned and walked down the hall.

A moment later, I heard the front door close, followed by the sound of his car engine starting in the driveway.

Once the sound faded, I opened my laptop again.