Night pulled its dark curtain tight over the estate, and the house settled into a hush that felt less like peace and more like a held breath. Liam lingered at the window, silhouette taut, his phone face-up on the side table where he could watch it. I sat at the kitchen island, the paperwork and leads spread before me like the map of a battlefield. Every name felt heavier now—every contractor, every courier, each dusty PO box a small, dangerous promise.
My phone buzzed and I flinched before I saw who it was. The screen read: MRS. ROMANO.
The world narrowed. Liam watched me, every muscle coiled. I didn’t know if Mrs. Romano had called because she suspected, because someone had finally whispered the right rumor into the right ear, or because she simply liked to remind me of the gravity of m
