The car pulled into the underground parking garage beneath Ethan's office building. The lights were low, fluorescent, humming. Amelia's phone was heavy in her pocket.
She hadn't looked at it since the text.
Ask your husband about the locked room.
She kept her face neutral. Kept her breathing steady. But her mind was racing.
Who sent it?
How do they know about the room?
Why should I stay away from Victoria?
Ethan parked the car and turned off the engine. He didn't move immediately. He sat there, hands still on the wheel, staring through the windshield at the concrete wall in front of them.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I'm always quiet."
"No." He turned to look at her. "You're thinking. There's a difference."
Amelia held his gaze. She wanted to tell him. Wanted to pull out her phone and show him the message and demand answers.
But something stopped her.
If he wanted me to know about the locked room, he would have told me.
He didn't.
Why?
"Just nervous," she said. "About seeing Victoria again."
Ethan's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "You don't need to be nervous."
"I'm not nervous of her. I'm nervous of what I don't know."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the console and took her hand. His fingers were warm. Steady.
"You'll know everything soon," he said. "I promised you that."
Soon.
The word was starting to feel like a cage.
_______
The office looked different in the afternoon light.
The morning sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the glass and steel. The employees moved differently too – faster, more focused, like the energy of the day was pressing down on them.
Victoria was waiting by the elevator.
She stood with her arms crossed, a tablet tucked under one elbow, her eyes fixed on the doors as they opened. When she saw Ethan, her posture relaxed slightly. When she saw Amelia, it tightened again.
"Ethan," she said. "We have a problem."
"Already?"
"Rossi's people reached out to logistics. They want a meeting."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "No."
"They're not asking."
"Then they can wait."
Victoria's eyes flicked to Amelia. Held there for a moment too long. "This isn't a conversation for the hallway."
Ethan stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Amelia. Not obviously. Just enough.
"Then we'll take it to my office," he said. "Amelia stays."
Victoria's lips pressed together. "Ethan—"
"She stays."
The silence stretched. Then Victoria turned and walked toward the corner office, her heels clicking against the marble floor like gunshots.
Amelia followed Ethan.
Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
She didn't check it. Not yet.
______
Ethan's office was large, windows on two sides, a desk that looked like it had been cut from a single piece of dark wood. Victoria stood by the window, her back to them. Ethan walked around the desk but didn't sit.
Amelia stood near the door, watching both of them.
"Talk," Ethan said.
Victoria turned. "Rossi wants to renegotiate the terms of the separation. He says the debt isn't paid."
"The debt was settled when I left."
"He doesn't see it that way." Victoria's gaze moved to Amelia. "He sees it as transferred."
Transferred.
The word landed like a stone in Amelia's chest.
To me, she thought. The debt was transferred to me.
Ethan's voice was low. Cold. "Rossi doesn't get to renegotiate."
"Then what do you suggest?" Victoria stepped closer to the desk. "You can't fight him alone. You know that. The family won't help you. Not after what you took."
What you took.
Amelia's mind raced. The locked room. The empty drawer. The things Ethan had removed before she arrived.
What did he take?
"And you?" Ethan asked Victoria. "Will you help?"
Victoria was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes moved to Amelia again. There was something in them – not hatred, exactly. Something heavier.
"I've always helped you," she said. "But I don't know if I can help this."
She gestured toward Amelia. A small motion. Dismissive.
"This changes everything, Ethan. She's not just your wife. She's a target. And every day she stays here, the danger gets worse."
Amelia's hands curled into fists at her sides.
"I'm standing right here," she said.
Victoria looked at her. Really looked. "I know."
"Then talk to me like I am."
Victoria's eyebrows rose slightly. She glanced at Ethan, then back at Amelia.
"Fine," she said. "You want to know what's happening? Your father stole from Victor Rossi. Rossi wants his property back. He thinks you know where it is."
"I don't."
"Rossi doesn't believe you."
"Then he's wrong."
Victoria shrugged. "Wrong or right doesn't matter. What matters is what he believes. And he believes you're the key to getting back what he lost."
The key.
Amelia thought about the locked room. About the text message.
Ask your husband about the locked room.
"I don't have anything that belongs to him," Amelia said.
Victoria smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Maybe not. But someone very close to you does."
She looked at Ethan.
And Amelia understood.
He's not just protecting me from Rossi.
He's hiding something serious from me.