“He wants me panicked, and he wants me to make a mistake.”

He looked at me, his gaze steadying for the first time since the call ended.

“Grace, I need you to stay here tonight.”

“I am not going anywhere,” I said.

“The babies need to look cared for,” he said.

“The house needs to look like a sanctuary, not a mourning home.”

“I will handle the house,” I said.

“Every bottle will be sterilized, and every room will be spotless.”

I had kept detailed logs of their feeding times, their temperatures, and their sleep schedules in a small leather notebook.

I had done it to keep my own mind occupied during the long night hours, but now those logs were a shield.

“What will you do?” I asked him.

Ethan picked up his personal cell phone from the desk.

“I am going to call Arthur Pendelton.”

“Who is he?”

“My corporate counsel, and a personal friend of my father’s,” Ethan said.

He walked toward the double doors of the library, his stride quicker now.