No reason. Not the bank alerts. Not the LLC. Not the drafted deed. Not the attempted transfer of the house.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t justify. I simply stepped aside and nodded to the locksmith.

The lock began to turn.

Ethan’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that!” he snapped.

“Yes, we can,” the deputy said evenly, voice firm and neutral.

Ethan raised his voice, frustration and disbelief threading every word. “This is insane—Claire, you’re going to regret this.”