“My Niece Whispered, ‘The Chair Hurts Me’ at Christmas Dinner—Then She Followed Me Into the Kitchen and Showed Me Why. My Brother Called Her a Liar…

"Marcus," I whispered into the phone, keeping it close to my collarbone. "He followed me."

"Do not get out of the car, Evan," Marcus ordered sharply over the speaker. "I am pinging your location right now. Patrol units are six minutes away."

The driver's side door of the Range Rover swung open. Grant stepped out into the swirling snow. He wasn't wearing a coat—just his crisp silk dress shirt and trousers, unaffected by the sub-zero wind. He walked toward my car with the slow, measured stride of a hunter who knew his prey was cornered in a fence line.

He reached my window and tapped three times on the glass with his heavy gold signet ring.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

I rolled the window down two inches. The freezing air rushed into the warm cabin, carrying the scent of pine and his expensive cologne.

"Going somewhere, little brother?" Grant asked softly, leaning down so his dark eyes were level with mine.

"Just checking my directions," I said, forcing my voice to remain monotone. "The storm is getting worse."

Grant smiled, but his jaw was clenched tight enough to snap iron. "Celeste told me you were whispering with Lila in the kitchen. She said you looked angry."

"I was asking her about her school," I replied. "She seems stressed."

Grant rested his forearms against the top of my door, peering into the dark car. "Lila is a troubled girl, Evan. She lies. She self-harms to get attention, and then she looks for soft-hearted fools like you to play the savior. You don't know what happens inside my house."

"I saw her back, Grant," I said, dropping the pretense.

The silence between us was heavier than the snow falling around us. Grant’s expression didn't change, but his eyes turned completely black.

"You always were an idiot," Grant whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. "You think your little press badge makes you powerful? I run a military contractor, Evan. I have seventy former Special Forces operators on my payroll. I have judges in my pocket. If you interfere in my family, I will erase you from the narrative before you make it to the airport."

He tapped the glass twice more.