Her Vengeance, His Broken Heart

was now an artifact of a grand deception. Sarah had arranged for a hospital bed to be installed in the living room, alo

, mocking me with the memory of Leo' s laughter. I would stare at it for hours from the window, the cold rage

handled all the calls of condolence with a voice full of carefully crafted sorrow. She floated through the house, a specter of fal

she had an empire to run, even in her feigned mourning. There were calls she had to

' d carelessly left on the coffee table. It was open. My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew her pa

much time. I scrolled quickly, m

. A short, t

everythin

omplete success. D is recove

God. What

. He is a broken man

screen with my phone, my hand shaking so badly I almost dropped it. Th

to. She claimed it was where she did her most sensitive work. I knew there was a spare

etting up the stairs was an agonizing, difficult process. I had to use my arms to haul my dead leg

e key, and wheeled myself to h

like a command center. But I wasn't interested in the decor. I started searching. Her desk drawers were locked,

Papers.

at. I was about to give up when my eyes caught a framed picture on her desk. It wasn't of me and her, or even of Leo. It was a

I looked at the safe's keypad. It required a six-digit cod

n. The safe

hick manila envelope. My hand

ns. Father: Alex Thompson. Following it were Daisy' s complete medical records, d

m, there was a folder

Notes on how to induce specific, non-lethal injuries to a second passenger to create a diversion. A payment ledger detailing transfers to an

orrifying truth, laid

p, and I felt nothing but a vast, empty cold. The grief was gone. The rage