It was a slow, deliberate sound.

Then came the faint blue glow of a phone screen sliding under my door, casting a thin line of light across the hardwood.

The light remained for several minutes, accompanied by the rapid, muffled tapping of thumbs on glass.

I sat up in bed, my heart thumping against my ribs.

What was he doing?

The light vanished as he walked back toward the guest room.

I got out of bed and crept to the door, pressing my ear against the cold wood.

From down the hall, I heard Daniel’s voice, hushed and frantic.

“Yes, it’s me,” he whispered. “I need to make an immediate transfer.”

He paused.

“I don’t care about the penalty,” he hissed into the phone. “Just move it now.”

I stood with my ear pressed to the door for another hour.

The house remained silent after that.

I wrote down the exact time, 2:11 AM, in the notes app on my phone.

I slept in fits and starts, waking up before the sun cleared the trees outside.

By 7:30 AM, I was sitting in my car in the driveway of my attorney’s office.