He sees my face and pauses.
“Sent it,” I say.
He sets the coffee in front of me and nudges it toward my hand. “Good.”
“No response yet.”
“He’ll wait,” Ethan says. “He always liked control.”
I nod, and I hate that he’s right.
He opens the folder and lays out printed phone logs, then another sheet with location flags. “He used the company car last night,” he says. “Parked it in Queens, then another phone pinged from the same block thirty minutes later, and it’s the one he uses when he’s meeting someone he thinks matters.”
“Victoria?” I ask.
He nods.
My stomach turns. “So they’re still working together.”
“They’re not just working,” Ethan says. “He’s cleaning for her.”
I blink. “Her what?”
“She doesn’t use outside contractors unless she’s planning something ugly,” Ethan replies. “And Gavin doesn’t know when to shut up or when to walk away.” He slides a thumb drive toward me. “This ties him to her funding, and if he goes down clean, it drags her with him.”
I touch the drive then look up. “Why me?”
“You’re the only variable he never accounted for,” Ethan says. “You’re the one he tried to erase instead of control, and he’ll underestimate you because that’s what he does.”
“I’m pregnant,” I say.
His eyes don’t move. “I know.”
“I might not be able to do this.”
“I won’t let him near you,” he says, and he means it in a way that makes my chest tighten.
My phone buzzes.
It’s him.
Ethan stays still while I read.
Unknown: Where are you?
You owe me a conversation.
Don’t make me come find you.
Three texts, less than a minute apart.
“He’s angry,” I say.
“He’s excited,” Ethan replies, and his voice stays calm. “It means you still matter to him, and that’s what we need.”
I hesitate.
“Lila,” he says, softer. “If this is too much…”
