Two days after I discovered Victor was running a massive criminal financial empire behind my back, I gave birth to our daughter Lily by emergency C-section, and instead of driving me home he turned the SUV straight up a frozen mountain pass in the middle of a historic Category 4 blizzard, ignoring every road sign and my terrified begging to stop.

Victor’s trial was the biggest media event of the decade.

Every channel covered it 24/7. The evidence was overwhelming—the ledgers, the USB drives, Cole’s testimony, Amelia’s testimony, the recordings of Victor confessing to every crime he’d ever committed. The jury deliberated for three hours. They found him guilty on all 47 counts—racketeering, money laundering, murder, attempted murder, fraud, the list went on. The judge sentenced him to 12 consecutive life terms in a maximum-security prison, no possibility of parole.

He’d die in there. Alone. Forgotten.

Amelia took the witness protection deal, moved to a small town in Oregon with Mia, changed their names. We talked once a month, sent each other photos of the girls. They were happy. Safe.

Ethan and I moved back to Montana, rebuilt Hank’s cabin bigger and better than before. Lily was thrilled to be home, to be with her grandpa, to have her own room with pink walls and a closet full of dresses. We opened a small community center in town, a place for kids whose parents had been hurt by crime, for women trying to escape abusive relationships. We named it after Sarah—Hank’s daughter.

Life was good. Quiet. Peaceful.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

Six months after the trial, I got a letter in the mail. No return address. The handwriting was Victor’s. I’d know it anywhere.

I opened it with shaking hands.

My dearest Clara,

You think you won. You think you’ve destroyed me. But you’ve only made me stronger. I’ve been making friends in here. Powerful friends. People who owe me favors. People who will do anything to get me out.

You think Lily’s safe in that little cabin? You think Hank can protect her forever? You think your little FBI friend can watch you 24/7? Think again. I’ve got someone on the outside. Someone you’d never suspect. Someone who’s been waiting for the right moment to strike.

On the anniversary of the day I left you to die, I’m gonna burn your whole world to the ground. I’m gonna take everything you love. Just like you took everything from me.

See you soon, Clara.

Always yours,

Victor

I dropped the letter, my blood running cold. I ran to Lily’s room. She was gone.

Her window was open, the screen cut out. Her favorite stuffed bear was lying on the floor, its head ripped off. A single red rose was on her pillow—Victor’s favorite flower.

I screamed Hank’s name. He ran into the room, his face white when he saw the empty bed, the letter. Ethan ran in behind him, already pulling out his phone to call Torres.

“Who would take her?” Hank yelled, grabbing his rifle from the closet. “Who would be stupid enough to come after us here?”

I thought of Victor’s words. Someone you’d never suspect.

I thought of Dave, my old boss from Hale Construction. He’d been at Victor’s trial, sitting in the back row, smiling at me. He’d sent Lily a teddy bear for her birthday a month prior. He’d been the one who’d given me the job, who’d trusted me with the ledgers, who’d known every move I made from the very beginning.

“Dave,” I whispered. “It’s Dave. He’s been working for Victor this whole time.”

Ethan looked up from his phone, his face pale. “Torres just checked. Dave was released from prison yesterday—he’d been doing time for embezzlement, Victor paid his bail. His car was spotted on the mountain pass an hour ago. The same one Victor took you up two years ago.”

I grabbed my coat, my gun, my keys. “Let’s go.”

We drove up the mountain pass as fast as we could, the tires spinning on the icy road. The sun was setting, painting the snow red. It was the anniversary. Exactly two years to the day since Victor had thrown me out into the storm.

We saw Dave’s truck at the overlook, parked in the exact same spot Victor had parked. Dave was standing by the edge, holding Lily in one arm, a gun to her head with the other. She was crying, her face red, her hands tied behind her back.

“STOP!” Dave yelled, as we jumped out of the car. “One more step, and I throw her over!”

We froze. Hank aimed his rifle at Dave’s head. Ethan stood beside me, his gun drawn.

“Let her go, Dave,” I said, my voice steady. “Victor’s never gonna get out of prison. He can’t pay you. He can’t help you. You’re throwing your life away for nothing.”

Dave laughed, a crazy sound. “He promised me $10 million. Promised me a new life in Mexico. All I had to do was kill you and the kid. And I’m gonna do it. Right here. Right where he wanted you dead two years ago.”

He lifted Lily, holding her over the edge. She screamed, “MAMA!”

I fired.

The bullet hit Dave in the shoulder. He screamed, dropping Lily. She fell—

I ran, diving, catching her hand inches from the edge. My body slid on the ice, half of me hanging over the thousand-foot drop, Lily swinging below me, screaming. Hank grabbed my legs, pulling me back, Ethan grabbing Lily, hauling her up into his arms.

I collapsed on the snow, gasping, holding Lily tight, crying into her hair. She was okay. She was alive.

Dave tried to run, but Hank tackled him, cuffing him with the zip ties we’d brought. The FBI showed up 10 minutes later, led by Torres, who took Dave into custody, promising he’d never see the outside of a prison again.