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“And you looked everywhere for your keys?”

“I did,” I lie.

He clicks his tongue. “Such a shame. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

I know.

My grandfather built this house with his own hands. Every inch of it was carved with love for the family he wanted living here. The fact that I have to destroy even a tiny piece of it because I trusted the wrong people only fuels the fiery rage bubbling in my chest.

Martin turns to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to just leave it? You might find them in a few days.”

I considered telling Bron to return my keys, but I know he won’t and if I ask Lauren for hers, she’ll ask why. And whilethey will find out eventually that I know about them, my plan requires sacrifice.

“I’m sure,” I mumble, biting back the weighted sigh lodged in my ribs.

Martin rolls a shoulder in a shrug and sets to work dismantling every lock in the house.

I leave him to take bleach and a rag to every inch of my kitchen counters. I even scrub the floors, just in case, and strip every piece of linen off every sofa, love seat and bed in the house. It’s all dumped in the laundry room.

“Spring cleaning?” Martin teases watching me tear the covers off the ottoman.

I huff a stray lock of hair out of my eyes and offer him a grin. “Something like that.”

Withered paw fisted tight around a screwdriver, Martin waves it at me. “Louise did the same thing just last week. Tore the whole house apart dusting and polishing. She wanted everything all clean for when Alana has her baby in a couple of weeks.”

I pause with the bundle of fabric clutched to my abdomen. “How is Alana?”

Martin beams. “Real good. Excited. She’s got the nursery all set up in the basement. She and Samuel are hoping to find their own place by next year. Sooner if they can, but I keep telling them not to rush it. No one wants to move with a new baby.Take your time and find something decent.” He pauses to glance around my living room. “Like this. It’s a good bit of space. Good bones.”

I smile and nod. “Thank you. Well, I hope they find something.”

Without waiting for further conversation, I hurry away with my armload of laundry.

I stuff the first load into the washer.

Martin is just finishing up the backdoor when I return. First thing I notice is the generic, silver knobs and let the rage add to my wall.

“That’s the last of ‘em.” He grunts as he pushes off his knees to stand. “I got the side and garage door. You might want to freshen up the paint, but otherwise, you’re all good.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” I murmur.

He tosses his screwdriver into the box at his feet and dusts his hands across his thighs. Martin snaps his toolbox shut with a clank, the sound echoing too loud in the quiet house.

He straightens, squinting at me beneath the brim of his cap. “I left your old knobs in the garage just in case you find your keys. It would be a shame to throw them out.”

I thank him again and watch as he crosses to the front door, drops my new set of keys on the hallway table, and disappears without another word.

And just like that, it’s quiet again.

Just me and the echo of my heart thumping in my chest.

One task complete now that I can ensure that no one else will be slipping into my house to contaminate my counters.

Next, finish preparations for Lauren’s party.

Mind set, I grab my purse, swipe my new set of keys, and storm into the garage. I climb into my car, poke the garage door open, and slide my belt across my lap. I throw the car into reverse and start to back out, only to slam on the brakes the moment I see the white truck in my driveway with the words,Shaw’s Constructionemblazoned across the side.

Lachlan.