My husband had been pretending to go to work for an entire week, but when I followed him to a secret building and saw who walked out beside him, I realized the person destroying my marriage was someone I trusted with my life…

Victor Sterling hadn't followed our tire tracks. He didn't need to.

He had tracked the built-in GPS transmitter inside the Honda's onboard computer—a feature I had completely forgotten was linked to the company insurance policy Daniel held through Meridian.

"Stay down!" Vivian whispered, pulling Daniel deeper behind the heavy oak sofa.

Outside, the crunch of boots on pine needles signaled that Sterling's private security team had surrounded the perimeter.

"He's not going to let us walk," I whispered, clutching the black flash drive in my palm. "He came here to burn this cabin to the ground."

"Nora..." Daniel struggled to sit up, his eyes wild with terror. "Give me the gun. You and Vivian take the back cellar exit. There’s an old logging trail—"

"No," I cut him off, a strange, absolute calm settling over my mind. "We are done running."

I looked at the heavy brick fireplace in the center of the cabin. Above the mantle hung my father's old 12-gauge hunting shotgun—unloaded, decorative, but imposing.

Next to it sat my father's old ham radio terminal, still wired to the heavy lead-acid marine batteries beneath the floorboards.

"Vivian," I said, handing her my laptop and the flash drive. "Can you hook the drive to Dad's terminal?"

Vivian’s eyes widened with understanding. "Dad taught me how to patch into emergency frequencies when I was twelve. Give me three minutes."

"I'll buy you five," I said.

I picked up the heavy shotgun from the mantle, loaded two ancient shells from the tackle box beneath the desk, and walked straight toward the front door.

"Nora, no!" Daniel gasped, trying to reach for me, but his wound betrayed him, dropping him to his knees.

I threw the wooden door wide open and stepped out onto the porch into the blazing white glare of the searchlights.

Victor Sterling stood beside the front bumper of his SUV, flanked by three armed men. He smiled when he saw me, though his eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the shotgun resting casually across my forearm.

"A quaint gesture, Nora," Sterling said with an amused chuckle. "Are you really going to shoot three federal contractors with an antique bird gun?"

"This isn't about the gun, Victor," I called out, my voice clear and unwavering in the freezing mountain air.

I held up my phone in my left hand. The screen was glowing green.

"You think you’re the only one who knows how to use communication networks?" I said. "Three minutes ago, my sister patched the master encryption key from Dad's drive into the Federal Crime Reporting live network. But more importantly... you’re currently broadcasting live to forty-two thousand viewers on our regional news tip stream."

Sterling's smile vanished.

"What are you talking about?" he snarled, taking a step forward.

"You're a very famous man, Victor. CEO of Meridian Financial. Philanthropist of the year. So when I started a public live stream fifteen minutes ago claiming to have the CEO of Meridian holding my family hostage at gunpoint... people tuned in. Lots of them."

Behind Sterling, one of his lead guards frantically pulled a tablet from his coat, his eyes darting across the screen.

"Sir," the guard whispered, his voice trembling. "She's not bluffing. The feed is trending on Twitter and local news. And... dispatch says state troopers are three minutes out."

Sterling’s face turned into a mask of pure, murderous rage.

"Shoot her!" he roared, pointing violently at me. "Kill all of them and burn the house!"

The guards hesitated.

"Did you hear me?!" Sterling screamed, losing all composure. "I pay your salaries!"

"Not for a capital murder charge on live television, Mr. Sterling," the lead guard muttered, stepping back and lowering his weapon.

Before Sterling could draw his own gun, the wail of dozens of sirens tore through the valley below.

Red and blue emergency lights flashed through the thick pine trees, illuminating the road like a dark carnival. Helicopters roared overhead, their spotlight beams pinning Victor Sterling to the earth.