My husband thought he had finished what he started on the staircase when he locked my ICU door and pressed a pillow over my face. Adrian had already left me shattered inside a near-full-body cast after I confronted him about my life insurance, but what he didn't know was that people were listening, and they were about to hear him confess.

"You killed Marcus," I rasped into the microphone, my teeth chattering from the freezing cold. "You killed your own agents."

"Marcus was a rogue cop who got in the way of state security," Victor said smoothly, taking a slow sip from a crystal glass of bourbon. "And as for the agents... casualties of war, Hannah. You know how politics works."

"It's over, Victor," I spat. "I have the Erebus ledger. The whole world is going to know you're a thief and a murderer."

Victor laughed softly—a deep, resonant laugh that had won him millions of votes across the state.

"And who are they going to believe, Hannah? A disgraced former auditor suffering from severe brain trauma after a tragic fall down the stairs? Or the Governor of Illinois?"

He leaned forward, his eyes turning cold and sharp.

"By six o'clock this morning, the news media will report that you suffered a psychotic break, murdered your husband Adrian in his hospital room, and fled with a disgraced detective. Every law enforcement agency in the country is hunting you down as a dangerous, armed fugitive."

My heart sank into my stomach. He had completely flipped the narrative.

"I’m offering you a choice, cousin," Victor continued smoothly. "Bring me the drive. Walk away with ten million dollars in an offshore account, a new identity in Europe, and your life. Or keep running, and I will make sure Clara and Uncle Richard pay for your stubbornness."