My husband dumped me unconscious outside an emergency room, then calmly told police I had attacked him. His mother pointed at the fingerprints around my throat and claimed I’d put them there myself, but neither of them knew a recorder hidden beneath my clothing had captured the moment Beckett strangled me and the chilling words his mother whispered while he did it.

The room felt like it was spinning out of control. The steady beep of my heart monitor accelerated into a frantic, erratic rhythm as Dr. Scott rushed over to check my vitals.

"Her heart rate is spiking! Give her two milligrams of lorazepam," Dr. Scott ordered a nurse. "Everyone out of this room right now!"

"Claire, wait," I choked out, grabbing my lawyer's sleeve with cold, trembling fingers. "How... how is that possible?"

"I don't know, Sarah," Claire whispered, her eyes glued to the terminal screen. "Your father’s master private key was decommissioned forty-eight hours after his funeral. The hardware security module was wiped and destroyed in front of the board."

Mary stood near the doorway, watching my panic with cruel satisfaction. Two hospital security guards finally escorted her toward the lobby, but her parting words echoed down the hall: "He never left you the company, Sarah! He never trusted you!"

The sedatives began to creep through my bloodstream, heavy and warm, forcing my eyelids shut despite the terror screaming inside my head.

Before I drifted into unconsciousness, I looked at Claire. "Find the IP address... trace the key..."

When I awoke six hours later, the morning sun was pale against the hospital blinds. My neck was wrapped in a soft cervical collar, and an IV drip was humming softly beside my bed.

Claire was sitting in a armchair near the window, her eyes bloodshot, two empty coffee cups sitting on the side table.

"You stayed?" I rasped, my voice slightly clearer thanks to the anti-inflammatory steroids.

"I haven't slept," Claire said, standing up and pulling her laptop closer to my bed. "Sarah, I spent the last six hours tracing the execution routing of that share transfer. It didn't come from Beckett's computer. And it didn't come from Mary's house."