Gina was in the study, reviewing the household ledger, when Vesper entered. She didn't knock. Her face was grim.

"Security has Chloe," Vesper said.

Gina dropped her pen. Chloe. The young assistant. The only person in this house who had shown Gina kindness in the past. Hansford had broken her leg last time for passing a note.

"Where?" Gina stood up.

"The basement holding room. Zoe accused her of theft."

Gina moved. She didn't walk; she ran.

She burst into the basement room. The air smelled of damp concrete and fear.

The head of security, a brute named Miller, was standing over a chair. Chloe was curled in it, sobbing. Her hand was cradled against her chest. Her index finger was bent at a sickening angle.

Zoe, a maid who slept with Hansford for extra cash, stood in the corner, smirking.

"Stop!" Gina shouted.

Miller stepped back. "Mrs. Burris. We caught this girl stealing the Senator's files."

Gina ignored him. She knelt beside Chloe. "Let me see."

Chloe whimpered, pulling away. "I didn't do it, ma'am. I swear."

Gina gently took Chloe's hand. The finger was dislocated, maybe fractured. Rage, hot and blinding, flooded Gina's vision. But she forced it down into cold calculation.

She stood up and turned to Zoe.

"You saw her steal?" Gina asked softly.

"Yes," Zoe said, crossing her arms. "She had the files in her apron."

"Which files?"

"The... confidential ones."

Gina laughed. It was a harsh sound. "The study door requires dual authentication, Zoe. My fingerprint and an authorized keycard. Chloe has neither."

She stepped closer to Zoe. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" Zoe insisted. "The Senator gave me..." She stopped, realizing she was about to admit she had access.

"Search her," Gina ordered Miller.

Miller hesitated. "Ma'am, Zoe is trusted by the Senator..."

"Search her, or I call the police and report an assault on a minor," Gina barked.

Miller sighed and patted Zoe down. He reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a plastic card.

It was Hansford's personal keycard.

Zoe's eyes went wide. "That's not mine! I didn't put that there!"

Gina looked at Vesper. Vesper gave a microscopic nod. She had planted it during the confusion.

"Grand larceny," Gina said. "Stealing a Senator's access card. That's a federal offense, Zoe."

"She planted it!" Zoe screamed, pointing at Vesper.

"Take her away," Gina said to Miller. "Lock her in the guest cottage until the police arrive. And Miller? If you touch Chloe again, I will have your license revoked."

Miller, realizing the power dynamic had shifted, grabbed Zoe by the arm. "Let's go."

As they dragged the screaming maid out, Gina turned back to Chloe.

"Vesper, get the first aid kit. The trauma one."

Gina set Chloe's finger right there in the basement. She worked with the precision of the surgeon she should have been.

"Why?" Chloe asked through her tears as Gina bandaged her hand. "Why did you save me?"

Gina wiped a tear from the girl's cheek. "Because you are the only one in this house who has a soul. And because I need you."

"For what?"

"War," Gina said.

That night, the atmosphere in the master bedroom was suffocating.

Hansford came in carrying a tray. On it was a bag of yellow fluid and an IV line.

"Dr. Sayer thinks you need a boost," Hansford said, his voice dripping with fake concern. "Vitamins. For the stress."

Gina looked at the bag. It wasn't vitamins. She recognized the chemical signature from the research she'd done in her past life. It was a cocktail of sedatives and a synthetic hormone that caused long-term sterility. He wanted to keep her docile and barren. A cold, triumphant fury settled in her heart. He was so predictable. She had anticipated this move weeks ago, in another lifetime, and just yesterday had Vesper swap the vial in the locked medical cabinet with a simple saline solution mixed with a mild, harmless sedative. The real poison was now safe in her possession, waiting for a more deserving recipient.

"I hate needles, Hansford," she whispered, shrinking back against the pillows.

"It's for your own good, Gina." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't make me call Miller to hold you down."

The threat was naked.

Gina extended her arm. "Okay. Just... hold my hand?"

Hansford smiled, satisfied with her submission. The nurse he had hired-a silent woman who asked no questions-inserted the needle.

"Good girl," Hansford said. He watched the drip start. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He sat there for ten minutes, reading a file, waiting for her eyes to droop.

Gina slowed her breathing. She relaxed her facial muscles. She let her eyelids flutter and close.

"Gina?" Hansford whispered.

She didn't answer. She let her jaw go slack.

"Out like a light," Hansford muttered. He stood up, stretched, and walked toward the bathroom. "I'm going to shower. Don't disturb me," he told the nurse. "You can go."

The nurse left. The bathroom door closed. The shower turned on.

Gina's eyes snapped open.

She reached under her sleeve, not to her arm, but to the IV line itself. With a surgeon's precision, she used a tiny connector she'd hidden under her pillow to attach a micro-catheter, a tube as fine as a fishing line. She fed the other end of the tube into a slit in the plush velvet headboard, where Vesper had earlier installed a concealed, high-capacity absorbent medical pouch. The fluid continued to drip, but now it was being silently siphoned away, not into her bloodstream.

She adjusted her sleeve to hide the connection.

Vesper slid into the room from the balcony door like a shadow.

"He's in the shower," Vesper whispered. "You have fifteen minutes."

Gina threw off the covers. She was dressed in black leggings and a tight shirt.

"Watch the door," Gina ordered. "If he comes out, kill the power."

"Understood."

Gina moved. She slipped out of the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the carpet. She knew the hallway cameras had a blind spot every thirty seconds. She timed her run.

She reached the study door. Locked.

She pulled out the keycard she had "confiscated" from Zoe. She pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner beside the keypad. It glowed green. Her access was still valid. Then she swiped the card.

Beep. A second green light.

She slipped inside. The room smelled of cigars and corruption.

She went straight to the large oil painting of Hansford's grandfather. She swung it aside.

There was the safe.

She pulled out a small electronic decoder Brandon had given her. She attached it to the keypad.

Red numbers raced across the screen.

Calculating...

Click. Whir. Click.

The decoder cycled through combinations. Gina's heart was hammering against her ribs.

Ten minutes left.

From the hallway, she heard nothing. But the silence felt heavy, pregnant with danger.

Click.

The light on the safe turned green.

Gina yanked the handle. The heavy steel door swung open.

Inside were stacks of cash, gold bars, and passports. But she ignored the wealth. Her eyes locked on a black leather notebook sitting on top of the pile.

The Ledger.

She grabbed it. Her hands were shaking, but she forced them steady. She pulled out a handheld scanner-another toy from the NSA.

She opened the book. Page one. Scan.

Names. Dates. Bribes. It was all there. The Sterling money laundering. The payoffs to judges. The illegal campaign contributions.

Page ten. Scan.

Page twenty. Scan.

"Gina," Vesper's voice crackled in her ear. "The water stopped."

Gina froze. "I'm halfway through."

"He's drying off. You have three minutes."

Gina sped up. The blue light of the scanner washed over the pages.

Page forty.

"He's opening the bathroom door," Vesper warned.

Page fifty. Done.

Gina shoved the notebook back into the safe. She slammed the door. She spun the dial. She swung the painting back into place.

She turned to run, but her elbow clipped the frame of the painting. It tilted. Just a fraction. An inch to the left.

"He's in the bedroom," Vesper hissed. "He's checking the bed."

Gina couldn't make it back to the bedroom. If she went into the hall now, he'd see her.

She dove behind the heavy velvet drapes of the study window.

The study door opened.

Hansford walked in. He was wearing a robe, his hair wet. He was humming.

He walked to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a scotch.

Gina held her breath. She gripped a syringe in her pocket-a sedative. If he found her, she would have to take him down.

Hansford turned. He looked at the painting.

He frowned.

He took a step toward it.

Gina's muscles coiled. Come on, you bastard. Come closer.

Hansford reached out... and straightened the frame.

"Sloppy cleaning staff," he muttered.

He finished his drink, turned off the light, and walked out.

Gina waited a full minute before exhaling. Her knees were jelly.

She slipped out of the study and ghosted back to the bedroom. Vesper was waiting. She helped Gina back into bed, removing the micro-catheter and re-taping the now-empty IV drip to look convincing.

When Hansford came back to bed ten minutes later, Gina was snoring softly.

He kissed her forehead. "Sleep tight, my asset."

The next morning, Gina sat in the garden, drinking coffee.

She tapped her phone, sending a massive encrypted file to Brandon Charles.

Sent.

A moment later, a reply came.

Received. We have him. When do you want to execute?

Gina looked at the house. She saw Elberta watching from the window. She saw Hansford leaving for work.

She typed back: Not yet. I found a note in the ledger. He's planning a tax trap for my parents next week. I need to save them first.

She stood up.

"Vesper," she said. "Pack a bag."

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Gina said. "To my parents. I'm done playing the victim in this house. It's time to burn it down from the outside."