PART 2
Ethan Caldwell did not run.
Men like Ethan never needed to.
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He moved through the silent back corridor of his estate with the calm precision of someone who had spent his life entering rooms where everyone else already knew he belonged. The hallway lights glowed low against dark paneled walls, turning his reflection into a shadow that followed him over the marble floor.
Behind him, in the kitchen, I stood with my back pressed to the locked door, one trembling hand covering my mouth.
I had told him.
The name had left my lips like a confession. Ryan. One word, two syllables, and suddenly the secret I had been carrying alone was no longer mine.
That should have brought relief.
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