The house feels different the moment I step in.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Just… heavier.
Like something is waiting.
I close the door behind me slowly, my fingers lingering on the handle for a second longer than necessary. My mind is still running—Scarlett, patterns, access, everything—but the air in this house forces me to shift.
Focus.
Adjust.
Control.
I take a step forward.
Then I see him.
My father is seated in the living room.
Not reading.
Not praying.
Just sitting.
Watching.
Waiting.
That alone is enough to make my chest tighten slightly.
He doesn't waste time.
"Ethan."
My name lands sharp.
Measured.
Controlled.
I straighten instinctively. "Yes, sir."
"Come."
I walk toward him, each step steady, calculated. I already know this isn't casual. My father doesn't sit like this unless something is wrong.
Very wrong.
I stop a few feet away from him.
He studies me.
Long.
Quiet.
Unblinking.
"You've changed," he says finally.
Simple.
Direct.
Dangerous.
I tilt my head slightly. "Sir?"
His eyes narrow just a fraction.
"Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm saying."
I stay silent.
Careful.
Neutral.
"You used to wake up before everyone," he continues. "Pray. Study. Prepare. You were eager. Hungry for the work of God."
A pause.
Then—
"Now… you rush. You improvise. Your messages lack fire. Lack depth."
My jaw tightens, but I keep my face calm.
"I've just been adjusting, sir," I reply smoothly. "The responsibility is new. I'm—"
"Adjusting?" he cuts in sharply.
The word hangs in the air like an accusation.
"Yes, sir," I say, steady.
His gaze doesn't leave mine.
"Or drifting?"
Silence.
I don't answer that.
I can't.
Because the truth is—
He's not wrong.
But I won't give him that.
"I'm still committed, sir," I say carefully. "Nothing has changed."
That's a lie.
We both know it.
He leans back slightly, eyes still locked on me.
"For someone who claims nothing has changed," he says slowly, "your spirit says otherwise."
My pulse ticks.
Just once.
"Sir—"
"You're distracted."
Flat.
Certain.
Not a guess.
A statement.
I swallow lightly. "With respect, sir, I—"
"What is distracting you, Ethan?"
There it is.
Direct.
Sharp.
Cutting.
I hesitate for half a second.
Too long.
His eyes catch it immediately.
"I'm waiting," he says.
I exhale slowly, forcing composure.
"Nothing specific, sir. Just… the transition. The workload."
Another lie.
Cleaner.
Safer.
But not enough.
He leans forward slightly now, elbows resting on his knees.
"You expect me to believe that?"
I hold his gaze.
"Yes, sir."
A beat.
Then another.
Then—
He exhales.
Not convinced.
Not satisfied.
Just… storing it.
"Be careful," he says quietly. "Because when a man begins to drift from discipline, it is never small."
My fingers curl slightly at my sides.
"I understand, sir."
"Do you?"
His tone sharpens again.
"Because this is not just about you anymore. You carry a mantle now. A responsibility. You represent this family. This ministry."
I nod slowly. "Yes, sir."
"And yet," he continues, voice tightening, "you are beginning to behave like someone who has forgotten what that means."
The words land heavier than I expect.
Not because they hurt.
Because they're… inconvenient.
Because they interfere.
Because they slow me down.
I lower my gaze briefly, playing the role.
"I haven't forgotten, sir."
He watches me closely.
Then—
He shifts.
And I know immediately.
We're not done.
Not even close.
"There's something else," he says.
My chest tightens again.
Slightly.
Controlled.
"Yes, sir?"
"The accountant spoke to me this morning."
There it is.
The shift.
The real reason.
I feel it before he even finishes.
"The church accounts were reviewed."
I don't move.
Don't react.
Don't breathe too fast.
"An unusual deficit was discovered."
My pulse picks up.
Just slightly.
But I keep my face calm.
Neutral.
Unbothered.
"How much, sir?" I ask.
He watches me carefully as he answers.
"Ten thousand dollars."
The number lands.
Heavy.
Solid.
Real.
I nod slowly, as if processing.
"That's… significant."
"It is," he replies.
A pause.
Then—
"And it was traced."
Of course it was.
I keep my expression steady.
"To a specific card."
My fingers tighten slightly behind my back.
"And that card," he continues, voice lower now, more controlled, "is in your possession."
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
I breathe in slowly.
Out slowly
Think.
Calculate.
Lie.
"I've used it a few times, sir," I say calmly. "For ministry-related expenses."
His eyes don't move.
"What kind of expenses?"
Specific.
Targeted.
He's not playing.
"Resources," I reply. "Materials. Some… support for outreach."
Weak.
I know it.
He knows it.
"And you spent ten thousand dollars?"
There's the pressure.
I nod slightly. "Over time, sir. Not all at once."
Another lie.
Another layer.
His gaze hardens.
"List them."
My mind blanks for a fraction of a second.
Then scrambles.
"Printing," I say. "Transport. Some support to members—"
"Names."
He cuts me off.
Sharp.
Immediate.
"Which members?"
Silence.
My throat tightens.
I didn't prepare for this level.
I didn't think—
No.
Think now.
Fast.
"I'll have to check the records," I say.
Wrong answer.
I see it immediately in his eyes.
"You'll have to check," he repeats slowly.
Not a question.
A statement of disbelief.
"Yes, sir."
He leans back again.
This time slower.
More deliberate.
"Ethan," he says quietly, "look at me."
I do.
Reluctantly.
Carefully.
And when our eyes meet—
I know.
He sees it.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to doubt.
Enough to question.
Enough to start digging.
"You are lying."
The words are calm.
Certain.
Final.
My chest tightens.
"No, sir—"
"Don't."
One word.
And I stop.
Completely.
His gaze sharpens, cutting straight through me.
"I don't yet know what you are hiding," he says slowly. "But I know you are hiding something."
Silence.
I don't respond.
Because anything I say now—
Will make it worse.
He stands up slowly.
And that movement alone shifts everything.
Power.
Authority.
Judgment.
"You were not like this before," he continues. "You were disciplined. Focused. Transparent."
A pause.
Then, colder—
"Now, I see hesitation. Evasion. Weakness."
My jaw tightens.
I force myself not to react.
"Whatever this is," he says, stepping closer, "it is already affecting your work. Your spirit. Your judgment."
He stops right in front of me.
Close enough that I can feel the weight of him.
"And I will not tolerate it."
My pulse pounds now.
Louder.
Harder.
But I keep my face still.
Calm.
Controlled.
"I understand, sir."
"Do you?" he asks again.
But this time—
He doesn't wait for an answer.
"I am watching you."
The words land like a warning.
No—
Like a promise.
"And I am putting the pieces together."
My stomach tightens.
Just slightly.
"But understand this, Ethan…"
His voice drops lower.
More dangerous.
"When I find out what you are doing…"
A pause.
Long.
Intentional.
"I will deal with you."
Silence fills the room.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Final.
I nod slowly. "Yes, sir."
He studies me for one last moment.
Then turns away.
Conversation over.
But not finished.
Not even close.
I remain standing there, unmoving, until I hear his footsteps fade.
Only then do I exhale.
Slowly.
Carefully.
My mind is already racing again.
Faster this time.
Sharper.
More urgent.
He knows something.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to start looking.
Enough to become a problem.
I run a hand through my hair, my jaw tightening.
This complicates things.
But it doesn't stop anything.
It can't.
Because I've already started.
And I'm not going back.
Not now.
Not when I'm this close.
Not when I finally have access.
My eyes drift toward my room.
Toward my laptop.
Toward her.
Scarlett.
Everything tightens again.
Focus returns.
Stronger than before.
Clearer.
More defined.
If anything—
This just means I have to be smarter.
More careful.
More precise.
Because now…
It's not just about her.
It's about staying ahead.
Of him.
And I don't lose.
Not when I'm this close to understanding everything.