Ethan stood in the doorway, his silhouette tall and dark against the hall light.

He had removed his tie and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“Arthur is on his way,” he whispered, stepping into the room.

“He is coming here?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Ethan nodded.

He walked over to Liam’s crib and looked down at his son.

“He has a connection in the county clerk’s office,” Ethan said.

“We are going to pull Daniel’s personal financial records from his recent divorce proceedings.”

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Daniel bought a property in the Bahamas three months ago,” Ethan said.

“He used a offshore shell company registered in Delaware.”

“The same company Claire was looking into?”

“Yes,” Ethan said.

“If I can prove he was embezzling funds from the Whitmore Group to buy that estate, I can threaten him with immediate federal prosecution.”

“Will that stop him from calling CPS?”

“It gives me a bargaining chip,” Ethan said.

He touched Liam’s tiny hand, and the baby’s fingers curled instinctively around Ethan’s index finger.