“It was.”

“Then why is that woman outside talking about stolen money?”

Ethan’s expression shifted. The panic stayed, but something colder moved beneath it. He was no longer thinking about Claire. He was deciding what he could blame on Lauren.

I had seen that look before. Years earlier I’d watched him use it during a dispute with one of his employees — he’d smiled, listened patiently, and then let the man accept responsibility for a decision Ethan himself had made.

At the time I called it leadership. Now I understood it was just practice.

Claire waited outside without moving. She knew Ethan better than anyone in that house. She had predicted he wouldn’t open the door right away. She had also predicted that he’d begin sacrificing Lauren the moment he felt trapped.