“What do you mean?” Ethan asked into the phone.

He listened for another moment, his gaze never leaving my face.

“She’s standing right in front of me,” Ethan said slowly.

“She’s standing right in front of me,” Ethan said slowly.

The silence in the nursery grew heavy, punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the four infants.

On the other end of the line, I could hear the faint, tinny murmur of Daniel’s voice, rapid and urgent.

Ethan did not say another word to him.

He simply pressed the red button on his screen and lowered the phone.

His eyes remained fixed on my face, searching.

“What did he say?” I asked, keeping my voice as quiet as the sleeping room.

“He said you shouldn’t be here,” Ethan replied.

He walked over to the window, looking out into the dark Lake Forest night.

The glass was cold, fogged slightly by his breath.

“Daniel is a businessman,” Ethan said, his back to me. “He looks at risks. He looks at liabilities.”

“And what do you look at, Mr. Whitmore?”

Ethan turned around.