The name *Nathan* flashed across the screen in bright white letters.

Sloane stared at it, her hand hovering over the device.

The phone vibrated against the stone, the buzzing sound echoing in the silent penthouse.

“Answer it,” Margaret commanded.

“Put it on speaker,” Margaret said.

Sloane’s fingers trembled as she swiped the screen and tapped the speaker icon.

“Sloane?” Nathan’s voice came through the line, loud and frantic.

“Sloane, are you there?” Nathan asked.

“Yes,” Sloane said, her voice shaking.

“I’m here, Nathan,” she said.

“We have to go,” Nathan said, the sound of a car engine revving in the background.

“The security guard at the gate just got a call,” Nathan said.

“They’re closing the main exit,” he said.

“Nathan, where are you?” Sloane asked, her voice rising in panic.

“I’m leaving,” Nathan said.

“Nathan, you can’t leave me here,” Sloane cried, stepping closer to the phone.

“They know everything,” Sloane said.

“They know about the trust, they know about the design accounts,” she said.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

The sound of screeching tires echoed through the phone’s speaker.