“Mr. Vance,” I said quietly, stopping at the threshold of the kitchen.
Julian lifted his head. The bags beneath his eyes were purple, bruised with exhaustion. “Emily. Is something wrong upstairs? Is Maya awake?”
“No, she’s resting. Her saturations are ninety-eight, pulse is stable,” I reassured him immediately. “I wanted to ask you a question about the renovation work done upstairs.”
Julian blinked, rubbing his thumb over the ceramic edge of his mug. “The renovation? Emily, the environmental engineers inspected the whole second floor. They tested for formaldehyde off-gassing from the flooring, paint VOCs, even the glues in the engineered baseboards. Everything passed European gold standards. Clara made sure of it. We spent sixteen thousand dollars on zero-VOC materials alone.”
“I saw the report,” I said, keeping my voice gentle, non-confrontational. “It was very thorough. But do you know what runs through the wall between Leo and Maya’s cribs?”
