The headlights of the matte black Mercedes G-Wagon, which had been parked discreetly down the snow-covered road, flashed once. The engine growled to life, and the SUV surged forward, crunching over the ice to skid to a halt inches from Carie's knees.

The driver's door flew open. Katy Cash jumped out. She was wearing a leather biker jacket over a silk pajama set, and combat boots.

"Jesus Christ, Carie!"

She saw the blood on Carie's neck first. Her eyes went wide.

"Did he hit you? I swear to God, I will burn that house down with them inside."

"No," Carie said, her voice shaking. "I did it to myself. Just... get me out of here."

Katy didn't ask questions. She grabbed Carie's suitcase and heaved it into the back. She practically carried Carie into the passenger seat.

She blasted the heat. "Here." She threw her cashmere coat over Carie. It smelled like her expensive perfume and cigarettes.

She slammed the car into gear and peeled out, tires spinning on the ice before gripping the asphalt.

Carie watched the side mirror. The Flynn estate disappeared into the white void.

"I grabbed some stuff from your old apartment last week," Katy said, glancing at Carie. "Before Erik changed the locks. It's in the center console."

Carie opened the console.

There was a thick, leather-bound book. Their Wedding.

She opened it. A photo of Erik and Carie cutting the cake. He was smiling at her with that charming, crooked grin that had fooled her so completely.

She felt sick.

She rolled down the window. The cold air rushed in, deafeningly loud.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her windproof Zippo lighter.

"What are you doing?" Katy yelled over the wind.

Carie flicked the lighter. The blue flame danced.

She held it to the corner of the photo album. The paper caught instantly.

She watched the flames lick across Erik's face, turning his smile into black ash.

She held it until the heat singed her fingertips. Then she let go.

The burning book tumbled out onto the snowy highway, a streak of fire in the night.

"Nice," Katy shouted. She floored the gas.

An hour later, they pulled into the underground garage of the Four Seasons in Midtown.

Katy flashed a black Amex card at the front desk. "Presidential Suite. Indefinite stay. No names on the registry."

The room was massive, warm, and safe.

Katy pushed Carie onto the velvet sofa and shoved a mug of hot tea into her hands.

"Okay," she said, sitting on the coffee table in front of Carie. "What's the plan? We sue? We go to the press?"

Carie took a sip of the tea. The warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the chill.

"Laptop," she said.

Katy blinked. "What?"

"Give me your MacBook."

She handed it to Carie.

Carie opened a secure messaging app. "Brice," she typed. "I need you to retrieve some footage. Two years ago. January 14th. 5th and Main intersection. NYC DOT archives. The one I left you access to."

A few moments later, a reply came. "Understood, Mademoiselle. Sending to your secure server now."

Carie opened a terminal window, watching as the encrypted data streamed in. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, decrypting the file.

"What are you doing?" Katy leaned in, watching the lines of code scroll down the screen. "I thought you barely knew how to use Excel."

"I lied," Carie said.

The video file popped up.

"Is that..." Katy gasped.

"The accident," Carie said.

She played it frame by frame.

There was her car, turning left.

And there was the white Range Rover behind her. Athena's car.

It was stopped. Brake lights on.

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds.

She was waiting. Watching.

Then, the brake lights went off. The front of the car dipped as she slammed on the gas.

Impact.

Carie's car spun into the guardrail.

"Holy shit," Katy whispered. "That wasn't an accident. That was a hit."

"She wanted to kill the baby," Carie said. Her voice was devoid of emotion. "And she succeeded."

"We take this to the FBI," Katy said, reaching for her phone. "Right now."

Carie closed the laptop. "No."

"Carie! She tried to kill you!"

"If we go to the police, the Christian family lawyers will bury it. They'll say the video is inconclusive, or corrupted. Athena will plead insanity. She'll go to a luxury rehab for six months and come out a victim."

Carie looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the Manhattan skyline.

"I don't want her in rehab," she said. "I want her destroyed. I want her to lose everything she thinks makes her valuable. Her reputation. Her money. Her name."

She pulled up a document template.

Separation Agreement.

She filled in the details.

"I'm initiating the separation," she said. "Tonight."

Katy looked at Carie. Really looked at her.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

Carie turned to her. Her eyes were dry.

"I'm the one who's going to burn them all down."

Dawn broke over Manhattan, painting the sky in bruises of purple and grey. Carie hadn't slept.

Katy walked out of the bedroom in a plush robe, holding two coffees. She looked at Carie, then at the laptop screen.

"You've been up all night?"

"I'm busy," Carie said, taking the coffee. Black. Double shot.

On the screen was a complex web of the Christian family's assets.

"See this?" Carie pointed to a node labeled Christian Global Logistics. "This is Genoveva's cash cow. It funds everything. Athena's lifestyle, her PR team, her lawyers."

"Okay..." Katy sat down.

Carie put on her Bluetooth earpiece. She dialed a number. It connected instantly.

"Oui, Mademoiselle?" A crisp male voice answered. Brice Reed. Carie's proxy in Paris.

"Brice," Carie said, switching to flawless French. "Execute Order 66 on the Christian stock. Short it. Everything we have in the liquidity pool."

Katy's jaw dropped. "You speak French? Since when?" Her voice was a low whisper, almost lost in the hum of the city. A flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by fierce loyalty, crossed her face.

Brice didn't hesitate. "Understood. The market opens in ten minutes. We will hit them hard."

Carie hung up.

Her personal phone buzzed on the table.

A text message. From Athena.

I'm so sorry about last night, Carie. Erik is just so worried about me. I hope you didn't catch a cold. We're all praying for your mental health. xoxo.

Carie stared at the screen. The gaslighting was masterful. She was trying to make Carie feel crazy. Trying to make her react.

Carie typed back: Enjoy what you stole. The bill is coming due.

She hit send.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.

Blocked.

Carie smirked. "She blocked me."

She turned back to the laptop. "Now for the fun part."

She accessed a secure database. "Find me all public records related to Christian Global Logistics. Specifically, any environmental or safety violations, past or present. And check their current shipping manifests for any irregularities."

Brice's voice came through her earpiece again. "Already on it, Mademoiselle. We have several historical incidents that were quietly settled. And their current North American operations show some... interesting discrepancies."

Carie nodded. "Focus on the discrepancies. Something that can be flagged by a regulatory body quickly."

"What are you doing?" Katy asked.

"Just a little compliance check," Carie said.

A few minutes later, Brice sent a report. "Mademoiselle, Christian Global Logistics has a shipment of high-value pharmaceuticals awaiting customs clearance at JFK. The manifest declares it as standard cargo, but our intel suggests it contains highly temperature-sensitive materials that require specialized handling. Their current storage conditions at JFK are inadequate, a clear violation of FDA and DOT regulations."

"Perfect," Carie murmured. She drafted an anonymous tip, attaching Brice's findings, and sent it to the relevant authorities.

Five minutes later, a news alert flashed on her screen.

Compliance Alert. Shipment Quarantined at JFK. Investigation Underway.

"Check Bloomberg," Carie told Katy.

Katy pulled up the app on her phone.

"Oh my god," she said. "Breaking news. Christian Global Logistics facing massive recall due to safety violations. Stock is... it's tanking. Down 8% in pre-market."

"Make that 12%," Carie said, watching Brice's sell orders hit the tape.

Erik would be seeing this. He sat on the board of their subsidiary.

"Carie," Katy said, looking at her with a mix of awe and terror. "How much money do you actually have?"

Carie closed the laptop. "Enough to buy and sell Erik Flynn ten times over."

She stood up. "We can't stay here. Erik will check the hotels. He'll check your credit cards."

"So where do we go?"

"We need a fortress," Carie said. "Somewhere he can't get in."

"I know a place," Katy said, grinning. "Tribeca. But it's expensive."

"Expense is not an issue," Carie said. "Let's go."

In the Flynn Tower, Erik stared at the TV screen in his office.

The red ticker at the bottom of CNBC was screaming about the Christian family stock crash.

He picked up his phone to call Genoveva, but paused.

Something felt wrong.

He looked at the empty chair across from his desk. He thought of Carie, walking out into the snow.

He checked his banking app. The joint account.

No activity.

He checked her credit cards.

Zero transactions.

"Where are you?" he muttered.

He hit the intercom. "Julian!"

Julian rushed in. "Sir?"

"Find my wife," Erik growled. "Hire a PI. Check every hotel, every shelter. She has no money. She can't have gone far."

"Yes, sir."

Erik spun the wedding ring on his finger. It felt loose.