The bruise from that afternoon was darkening across his back, but the doctor had found others beneath it—marks already beginning to heal.

By nine o’clock that night, the rain had tapered off into a thick, clinging fog.

Daniel left the cabin under the supervision of Frank’s trusted security team and drove back toward his home in the suburban estate of Crestwood—the house he had shared with Rachel, and where Vanessa currently believed she was the undisputed mistress of the estate.

He didn't pull into the main driveway. Instead, he parked his truck two streets away in a quiet cul-de-sac and approached the property through the dense tree line at the edge of the backyard.

The sprawling stone house was lit from within, glowing warmly through the foggy night. To anyone passing by, it looked like an idyllic picture of suburban luxury. But to Daniel, it looked like a gilded snake pit.

He slipped through the side garden gate, using his master key to unlock the heavy oak door leading into the basement garage.

His goal was simple: Rachel’s personal safe, hidden behind a false panel in the wall of his private study. Two years ago, after Rachel died, Vanessa had insisted on “redecorating” the study, but Daniel had quietly kept the key code to the floor safe buried in his memory.

He crept up the carpeted basement stairs, his dark clothes blending into the shadows.

As he reached the main hallway near the study, he heard a voice speaking sharply from the grand living room.

It was Vanessa.

“I don't care what the hospital said!” Vanessa was snapping into her phone, her tone laced with high-pitched, aristocratic rage. “Daniel has taken the kids off the floor without my signature! I am their legal stepmother! I have rights to those records!”

Daniel paused near the doorway, staying crouched behind a heavy leather armchair.

“Listen to me, Officer Miller,” Vanessa continued, her heels clicking angrily against the hardwood floor. “If Daniel goes to the precinct with those medical reports, we are both finished. You need to pull the original file from the 2024 investigation and destroy the backup drives before his lawyer files a subpoena tomorrow morning!”

A pause followed as the person on the other end answered.

“I paid you two hundred thousand dollars to make sure Rachel’s fall was ruled an accident!” Vanessa hissed softly, stepping closer to the fireplace. “If I go down for this, Miller, I am taking you and your chief with me!”

Daniel pulled his smartphone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen. He recorded every single word, his heart hammering against his ribs as her voice echoed through the room.

Vanessa hung up the phone with a sharp curse. She walked over to the mantlepiece, pouring herself a glass of wine from a crystal decanter—the exact same Italian crystal set.

“Where are you hiding them, Daniel?” she muttered to herself, staring into the dark fireplace. “You think you’re smart... but you’re just as weak as your dead wife was.”

Daniel silently backed away, retreating into the shadows of his study. He reached behind the bookshelf, pressed his fingers against the electronic keypad built into the wall cavity, and entered the six-digit code: 0-6-1-2-1-8—Rachel’s birthday.

The heavy steel door of the wall safe clicked open with a soft, barely audible pop.

Inside lay three thick leather binders, a stack of old family passports, and a small black USB flash drive labeled with Rachel’s handwriting: Vance Dynamics Financial Audit—DO NOT ERASE.

Daniel grabbed the drive, along with a sealed manila envelope marked For Daniel if anything happens to me, and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

Just as he turned to leave, the study door swung wide open.