“Sir,” the deputy interrupted, calm and measured, “you have thirty minutes to collect personal belongings.”

Ethan stared at him, breathing hard, before spinning abruptly and heading upstairs.

Natalie leaned toward me, voice low. “You okay?”

“I’m steady,” I said quietly, even as the muffled chaos of drawers opening and closets slamming echoed upstairs. The storm he thought he was unleashing was contained in walls.

When he came back down, duffel bag over one shoulder, laptop tucked under his arm, he paused at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes searched mine, daring me to falter. I didn’t.