I waited until his car pulled out of the driveway before I moved.
The house was too quiet. That kind of quiet where you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. I was still sitting on the floor outside the study door, Mara's bracelet cold in my palm. The M.S. engraving pressed into my skin like it was burning itself there.
I should've gone to bed. Should've pretended I never saw it. But the second I thought about walking away, I saw Mara's face the last time we talked. Three years ago. She was wired, kept looking over her shoulder at the coffee shop. Said she was onto something big. Said she'd tell me everything once she had proof.
She never called again.
I pushed myself up. My legs were shaky. The study door was still locked, but now I knew something was inside. Something that connected Ethan to Mara. Something he didn't want me to see.
I pressed my ear against the wood. Nothing. Just that same cold silence. I tried the handle again, knowing it wouldn't turn. It didn't.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Think."
The bracelet had come from under the door. Which meant it was just sitting there, close to the gap. Maybe other things were too. I dropped back down to my knees and pressed my cheek against the hardwood, trying to see through the crack.
Dark. Just dark.
I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight, angling it low. The beam caught dust particles floating in the gap. Then something else. A corner of paper, maybe six inches in. White against dark carpet.
I stretched my arm under the door. My shoulder pressed hard against the frame. My fingers brushed something smooth. Paper. I walked my fingertips across it, trying to drag it closer.
It moved an inch.
Then the house made a sound.
Not a settling sound. Not the heater or pipes. A footstep. Upstairs.
I froze. My arm was still under the door. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack something.
Another footstep. Slower this time. Like someone was testing their weight on the floorboards.
Ethan left. I saw him leave. His car was gone.
I yanked my arm back and scrambled to my feet. The paper stayed where it was, half-visible under the door. I backed away from the study, eyes on the ceiling. The footsteps moved across the upstairs hallway. Stopped right above me.
Silence.
I was holding my breath without meaning to. My phone was still in my hand, flashlight pointing at the floor. I killed it. The hallway dropped into shadow, just the faint glow from the kitchen nightlight twenty feet away.
The footsteps started again. Heading toward the stairs.
I ran.
Not thinking, just moving. I hit the kitchen and kept going, straight to the back door. My hands were clumsy on the lock. It stuck. I twisted harder and it finally gave, and then I was outside in the cold.
The yard was bigger than I thought. Trees at the back, thick enough that I couldn't see past them. No neighbors close. No lights except the one over Ethan's back porch.
I stopped at the edge of the porch. My breath was coming out in clouds. I still had Mara's bracelet clenched in my left hand.
What the fuck was I doing.
I turned and looked back at the house. Every window was dark except the kitchen. Nothing moved inside. No shadow on the stairs, no face at the glass.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe the house was just old and made noises and I was losing my shit because I found my dead best friend's jewelry under my fake husband's locked door.
Maybe.
I stayed outside for five minutes. Ten. Nothing happened. The cold started seeping through my sweatshirt. My feet were numb in just socks.
Finally I made myself go back inside. Locked the door behind me. Checked the kitchen, the living room. Empty. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up into the dark.
"Hello?"
My voice sounded small. No answer.
I climbed the stairs slow, keeping to the edge where they wouldn't creak. The upstairs hallway was exactly like I left it. Ethan's room, my room, the bathroom. All the doors in the same positions. Nothing moved.
I checked my room first. Empty. Checked the bathroom. Empty. I stood outside Ethan's door for a long time before I opened it.
His bed was still made. Military corners, like he'd never slept in it. The room smelled like him, that cold clean scent, but the air was still. No one had been here.
I closed the door and leaned against the hallway wall. My heart was still going too fast.
You imagined it. Old house. Creaky floors. You're stressed. You're projecting.
I went back downstairs. The study door was still locked. The paper was still under it, that white corner just visible.
I knelt down again. This time I didn't hesitate. I shoved my arm under as far as it would go, ignored the way the doorframe bit into my shoulder, and dragged the paper out.
It was a photo. Printed on regular paper, edges cut clean. The image was dark, taken at night. A street I didn't recognize. Two people standing under a streetlight.
Mara. And Viktor.
I stopped breathing.
Mara looked like she did three years ago. Same leather jacket, same ripped jeans. Her hair was shorter. She was holding something, a folder maybe, and Viktor was reaching for it. His face was in profile but I'd know that sharp jaw anywhere. The same face that smiled at me across his desk when he told me my debt was forgiven.
The same face that looked at me like I was a transaction.
I flipped the photo over. Someone had written on the back in neat block letters: SEPTEMBER 2021. EXPOSURE RISK.
Exposure risk.
What the fuck did that mean.
I looked at the front again. Tried to see what Mara was holding. The resolution was shit but it looked like papers. Documents maybe. Her expression was hard to read in the grainy light but her body language was tense. Viktor looked calm. He always looked calm.
September 2021. Two months before Mara disappeared.
I sat back on my heels. My brain was trying to put pieces together but they didn't fit. Viktor knew Mara. Viktor knew Mara was onto something. Viktor was there when she vanished.
And now Viktor's brother had this photo locked in his study.
A photo labeled exposure risk.
I shoved the picture in my pocket and stood up. My whole body was shaking now, adrenaline or fear or both. I needed to get out of this house. I needed to think. I needed—
Headlights swept across the front windows.
A car in the driveway.
I ran to the window and looked out. Ethan's black sedan, pulling up to the garage. He was back. He wasn't supposed to be back for eight hours.
Shit. Shit.
I sprinted for the stairs. Made it halfway up before I heard his key in the lock. I kept going, hit the upstairs hallway, dove into my room. Shut the door as quietly as I could and leaned against it.
Downstairs, the front door opened. Closed. Footsteps in the entryway, slow and even. They stopped.
Silence.
Then his voice, low and clear, like he knew exactly where I was.
"Charlotte."
I didn't answer. My hand was pressed over my mouth. The bracelet was digging into my palm. The photo was a hard rectangle in my pocket.
His footsteps started again. Across the entryway. Into the hallway. They stopped right below me.
"I know you're awake," he said.
I stayed frozen. Maybe if I didn't move, didn't breathe, he'd think I was asleep. Maybe he'd go away.
The stairs creaked.
He was coming up.
I backed away from the door. Looked around the room for anything I could use. Nothing. Just a bed and a dresser and a window that probably didn't open. I was trapped.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Stopped outside my door.
A long pause.
Then a quiet knock.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Ethan said. His voice was different. Tired maybe. Or something else. "But we need to talk."
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
Another pause.
"You found something," he said. "Didn't you."
It wasn't a question.
My throat was so tight I couldn't swallow. The bracelet was cutting into my skin. I could feel Mara's initials like they were carved into my palm.
"Charlotte." His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. "Open the door."
"Go away," I managed. It came out hoarse.
Silence.
Then the door handle turned.
I hadn't locked it.
The door opened slow. Ethan stood in the hallway, still in his jacket, hands loose at his sides. His eyes found mine in the dark. They caught the light from the hallway behind him, reflected it back cold and bright.
Like an animal.
"What did you take from my study," he said.
I took a step back. He took a step in.
"Nothing," I said. "I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me." He closed the door behind him. Now it was just us in the dark. "I can smell it on you."
Smell it.
I pressed my back against the far wall. He crossed the room in three steps and stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could feel the cold coming off him. Close enough to see his jaw was tight, his breathing controlled.
"Show me," he said.
I shook my head.
His hand moved fast. Caught my wrist before I could pull away. His grip was iron. He turned my hand over and uncurled my fingers one by one.
The bracelet fell onto my palm.
He stared at it. Something crossed his face, too fast for me to read. Then it was gone and his expression was blank again.
"Where did you get this," he said.
My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Your study. Under the door."
"Anything else?"
I thought about the photo in my pocket. About Mara and Viktor under that streetlight. About exposure risk.
"No," I lied.
His eyes stayed on mine for a long time. Like he was reading something written on my face. Then he let go of my wrist and stepped back.
"You shouldn't have gone near that door," he said.
"Then you shouldn't have left her bracelet where I could find it."
His expression didn't change. "Her?"
"Mara Santos." I held up the bracelet. "My best friend. The one who disappeared three years ago. Want to tell me why you have her jewelry locked in your study?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned and walked to the window. Stood there with his back to me, looking out at the dark.
"I can't," he said finally.
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something at him. Instead I stayed where I was, bracelet clenched in my fist.
"Did you kill her," I said.
He turned around. His face was still blank but his eyes weren't. They were dark and sharp and something else. Something that made my breath catch.
"No," he said. "But I know who did."