The sentence made no sense, and yet it sounded rehearsed.

I gripped the edge of the desk.

“Take back? For who?”

She didn’t answer.

Outside, tires crunched softly in the driveway.

All of us heard it.

My mother said through the phone, “Mason, lock the door.”

I moved to the window.

A black Lincoln sedan had stopped behind my car.

It didn’t belong to anyone on our street.

The porch camera light blinked on.

Claire looked toward the front door and exhaled like someone finally rescued from a long performance.

Evan stepped back.

“Who is that?”

Claire smoothed her hair with both hands.

When she looked at me again, her face had changed completely.

No shame.

No panic.

No pretending.

Just certainty.

“You wanted the truth,” she said. “Now don’t act surprised when it walks in.”

The doorbell rang.

Once.

Then twice.