He had no idea yet that losing those contracts was going to be the smallest of his problems.

Chapter 8 — Uncle Andrew at the Island

He came before seven the next morning, let himself in with his key, pushed the front door open without knocking — the last time he would ever do either in that house.

I was at the kitchen island with Micah asleep against my shoulder and a cup of coffee going cold in front of me.

Across from me, in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Ivan’s car, sat Uncle Andrew.