At 1:37 a.m., the security gate opened.

I heard the cars.

Then voices.

I came downstairs and found Damian leaning against the kitchen counter.

Blood soaked his sleeve.

Eleanor was already there.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

She stared at the blood.

“Apparently nothing has excellent aim.”

Damian’s jaw tightened.

“Go upstairs.”

“No.”

“Eleanor.”

She pulled his jacket away.

A deep cut ran along his upper arm, just beneath the edge of his black-and-gray tattoo.

“Sit.”

“I said—”

“And I said sit.”

Damian stared at her.

Then sat.

I watched from the doorway.

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” Damian said.

Eleanor looked at me.

“Medical kit.”

I grabbed it.

She cleaned the wound.

Damian didn’t flinch.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Business.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

She wrapped his arm carefully, keeping the bandage clear of the tattooed skin where possible.

“Fine.”

“You’re not asking again?”

“No.”

Damian looked suspicious.

“Why?”

“Because I know enough.”

His expression hardened.

“What exactly do you think you know?”

“That your father’s businesses aren’t all discussed in annual reports.”

Silence.

My stomach dropped.

Damian stood.

“You should forget that thought.”

Eleanor didn’t move.

“Sit down before you reopen your arm.”

“You’re not frightened?”

“Yes.”

That stopped him.

Eleanor continued.

“I’m frightened by plenty of things, Damian. I just don’t let fear make all my decisions.”

He slowly sat again.

Then Noah appeared.

Cole behind him.

Soon all four brothers were standing around Eleanor while she patched Damian up.

She looked at us.

“Does anyone in this family sleep?”

“No,” Cole said.

“That explains a lot.”

We laughed.

Even Damian.

For ten minutes, we weren’t heirs to anything.

We weren’t grieving sons.

We weren’t a feared family.

We were just four brothers watching someone take care of one of us.

Then Damian looked at Eleanor.

“You should leave.”

The laughter died.

“What?” I said.

Damian ignored me.

He looked only at Eleanor.

“This house isn’t safe for you.”

She tied the bandage.

“Neither is driving in Fairhaven traffic.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You don’t understand what you’re around.”

“I understand enough.”

“Then leave while you can.”

Noah stepped forward.

“Damian.”

“Stay out of it.”

Eleanor closed the medical kit.

“Do you want me gone?”

Damian hesitated.

She asked again.

“Do you?”

His eyes dropped.

“No.”

“Then stop trying to make decisions for me.”

She walked away.

Damian watched her leave.

I leaned against the counter.

“You like her.”

His head snapped toward me.

“Go upstairs.”

Noah grinned.

“You absolutely like her.”

“I can still throw both of you through that window.”

Cole examined the glass.

“Dad would be furious. Italian custom.”

Damian looked at him.

“Et tu?”

Cole shrugged.

It was the first night I remembered all four of us laughing together after Mom died.

Eleanor heard us from the hallway.

She didn’t come back.

She just smiled where none of us could see.

Or at least where she thought none of us could.

I saw her.

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