The moment my mother-in-law hurled a pot of boiling oil across my back, she leaned down with a cold smile and whispered, “Maybe next time dinner will be on the table before my son gets home.” As I collapsed onto the kitchen floor screaming, my husband stepped over me, wiped the oil off his expensive leather shoes, and calmly prepared the biggest lie of his life. Neither of them had the slightest idea that the woman they thought they had finally broken had spent years destroying criminals in court—and I had already gathered everything I needed to bury them.

"I think I'm thorough, Daniel," I replied, leaning against the cheap motel wallpaper. "How does it feel to have the syndicate looking for your head?"

"They'll have yours first," he snarled. "You froze the accounts, but you don't have the ledger. Without the physical book, the Feds can't secure convictions on the top bosses. You're just delaying the inevitable."

"I'll take my chances in court."

"Will you?" Daniel laughed, a desperate, hollow sound. "Because I have Vivian's phone. And I have your precious Dr. Ortiz's daughter sitting in my car right now."

My blood ran completely cold. Lena saw my face drop and stepped toward me, panic rising in her eyes.

"Say hello, sweetheart," Daniel said. A faint, terrified whimper of a little girl echoed through the phone. Lena screamed, falling to her knees.

"If you hurt her, Daniel, I will personally carve you into pieces," I vowed, my voice shaking with raw fury.

"I don't want to hurt her. I want the ledger," he snapped. "I know your father hid it before he died. Figure it out, Caroline. You have two hours to bring it to the house. Come alone, or the kid disappears."

He hung up.

Lena was hyperventilating, clawing at my scrubs. "My baby! Caroline, he has my baby!"

"I'm going to get her back," I promised, grabbing my father's journal. I had two hours to solve a riddle my father had left behind two years ago. I turned to the very last page, staring at a small, cryptic doodle he had drawn in the margins. It was a sketch of a grandfather clock, locked at 3:15.