Jason turned, brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You should get the door yourself,” I said pleasantly. “I arranged a very special birthday surprise for you. Trust me — you’ll want to be the one to open it.”

His irritation curdled into intrigued arrogance. He puffed out his chest, assuming a gag gift or a stripper. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what the wife cooked up.”

He strutted to the foyer. The room went quiet, every eye on the door.

Jason grabbed the brass handle and yanked it open.

The color drained violently from his face.