The next morning, I stood outside Ethan's building.
My parents were beside me. My mother's eyes were still puffy. My father hadn't unclenched his jaw since he arrived.
"When we get up there, let me do the talking. Stay behind me."
"Shana, if they try to get physical —"
"Lydia's arranged for her media contact to film from the building across the street. If anything happens, call the police immediately."
"When that bastard shows his face, I swear I'll —"
"Dad. No. We do this through the law."
I walked upstairs. Their door was decorated with a fresh Christmas wreath, red and cheerful. It made my eyes ache.
I could hear noise inside — sounded like a card game going on.
I knocked. The room went quiet.
Mr. Ward opened the door. His face darkened the moment he saw me.
"You again? Makin
