Nora's gaze turned icy. "What happened?"
Sweat beaded on Manager Finch's forehead. "Miss Simmons, Mr. Gilbert did enter the community. But it wasn't a security lapse—he was invited."
They both froze.
"By whom?" Nora demanded.
Manager Finch hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Your former friend. The Pruitt heiress. She's also a homeowner here. She invited Mr. Gilbert to her residence, and we had no grounds to refuse."
Nora's face went dark.
"Drive," she snapped at Ethan. "To Vivian's house. Now. I want to know exactly what she thinks she's doing."
At that moment, I was having tea at the Pruitt residence.
Harold and Margaret Pruitt had been chatting with me for hours. The way they looked at me grew increasingly peculiar—like parents sizing up a future son-in-law, and liking what they saw more with each passing minute.
That morning, when I'd been stopped at the community gate, Vivian happened to be driving home. The moment she understood the situation, she'd practically dragged me into her car without a word.