I already dislike the tone in his voice. “What?”
His fingers rest against the side of the bourbon glass. “The drawing Ivy made.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “What about it?” I ask carefully.
Roman’s eyes stay locked on my face. “Tell me again exactly how Maggie found it.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. “It was inside her mailbox this morning,” I say. “No postage. No return address. Just the drawing folded inside an envelope.”
Roman says nothing.
“Ivy made it at the shelter last week.” A muscle in my jaw jumps. “A picture of flowers, the sun, and the puppy.”
“When was it taken?” he asks.
“Maggie thinks somebody took it during the shelter break-in.”
Roman grows quiet after that, his attention narrowing while thunder rolls beyond the windows. I recognize the lookimmediately because I’ve watched my brother wear it moments before entire organizations died beneath his decisions.
“And your first thought?”
“That someone entered the shelter looking for access.” Irritation roughens my voice. “The break-in already connected itself to her mother’s car break-in and Ivy’s drawing in my head.”
Roman dismisses that with a slight movement of his hand. “No. Your first emotional thought.”
I stare at him for a moment before answering. “That they were watching Maggie.”
“And now?”
An ugly feeling moves through my chest.
Roman leans farther into the chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “The drawing itself matters less than the message written across it,” he says.
SHE DOESN’T BELONG TO YOU.
The words replay instantly in my head exactly as they were written.
Roman watches me. “That isn’t business language,” he continues. “It’s personal.”
Rage burns low beneath my ribs. “They stole a child’s drawing to deliver a threat.”
“Yes.” Roman’s voice remains calm. “But not toward Ivy.”
I look at him sharply. “They wanted Maggie frightened.”
“Not harmed,” he says. “Not yet.”
The room goes still around us.
I scrub a hand down my face. “She received the message.”
“No.” Roman’s eyes stay on mine. “Youdid.”
I stare outside the study at the dark. “They knew she would come to me with it.”
“Yes,” he agrees.
“And they knew I would react.”
