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“Compelling legal argument. Open it.”

He sighs dramatically and taps the keyboard.

An encrypted chat appears.

My stomach sinks.

Not NULL.

Something Pierre built himself.

Naturally.

I move closer.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Preston.”

I pause.

“Preston?”

He nods.

“Your cousin Preston?”

Another nod.

I stare at the screen.

“What does Preston want?”

Pierre's attention returns to the keyboard.

“Intel.”

Oh no.

I know that word.

Nothing good in this family has ever followed it.

“Intel on what?”

“A girl.”

I close my eyes.

Absolutely not.

From behind me, Xavier says, “Why did you just make that face?”

I turn.

My husband stands in the doorway wearing black trousers, white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms.

He looks from me to our son.