“If you’re not lying, then tell us—what’s your husband’s name? What business is he in?”
“If you make one up on the spot, we’ll know.”
Ethan took a drag from his cigarette and smirked.
“You pulled this stunt five years ago. Still trying the same trick? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
He clearly didn’t believe a word.
“I don’t care what you think. I don’t owe you proof. Open the door. If you don’t let me out, I’m calling the police.
“I’m not wasting my time on your stupid games.”
But in the next second, Ethan pulled out a small white porcelain urn.
My face instantly hardened.
“Give it back.”
I lunged to grab it, but he held it high, and I came up empty.
Looking down at me in my frustration, he slowly smiled.
“Turns out my words mean less to you than a dead person.”
“If I’d known this urn was so effective, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time talking.”
My gaze went glacial, edged with a hint of lethal intent.
“Watch your mouth.”
Years ago, though the Brooks family had publicly acknowledged me, they’d never truly accepted me.
My real family was my adoptive mother.
For my sake, she’d been willing to cut ties and send me back to the Brooks family to live as their heiress.