I kept my eyes on Ethan, refusing to look at Daniel.

“My license was suspended,” I said.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly in the silence that followed.

Outside, a sudden gust of wind threw heavy rain against the glass pane.

Ethan stood up slowly, handing the phone back to Daniel.

“Daniel, leave,” Ethan said.

“Ethan, she lied to you to get into this house,” Daniel argued, his voice rising.

“I said leave us,” Ethan repeated, louder this time.

Daniel stared at him for a moment, his jaw tight.

He snatched his phone from Ethan’s hand.

“I will be in the lobby,” Daniel said, glaring at me as he brushed past.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.

The room felt colder now.

Ethan walked over to his laptop on the desk.

He typed quickly, his fingers striking the keys with a sharp, rhythmic sound.

I stood in the center of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The smell of old paper and wood polish filled the air.

“I am looking at the Illinois Board of Nursing registry,” Ethan said without looking up.