443 Victoria Montgomery smiled as she pressed the pillow harder against her daughter-in-law's face inside a private hospital room in Manhattan. The blinds were half open, and the sharp scent of disinfectant mixed with the expensive perfume she always wore.

Inside the luxury townhouse, the air was thick with panic. The mahogany walls and crystal chandeliers felt less like symbols of immense wealth and more like the bars of a cage.

Ethan paced the length of the grand library, sweating profusely through his bespoke silk shirt. "She knows, Mother! She knows about the Vanguard Trust! If the feds find out that the money isn't just ours—that we owe it to them—we’re dead! Not just broke, actually dead!"

Victoria sat perfectly upright on a velvet sofa, sipping a glass of red wine, though her hands were trembling slightly. "Control yourself, Ethan. You are a Montgomery. We do not panic."

"A Montgomery?!" Ethan shouted, slamming his fist onto the desk. "Look around us! The police are outside! The cameras are recording! You pushed her off that balcony, Mother! You!"

"Correction, my dear son," Victoria said, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "We both loosened the railing. And you were the one who dragged her out there to argue about the insurance policy. If I go down, you go down with me. Remember that."

What they didn't know was that Sarah Mitchell, the nurse who had helped Emily, had a brother who worked for the high-end security firm that installed the townhouse's smart-home system. Months ago, before the accident, Emily had quietly had the internal intercom system reconfigured.

Every word of their argument was being recorded, digitized, and uploaded straight to Agent Clara Vance's task force.

"We need to get the physical documents out of the library safe," Victoria ordered, standing up and smoothing her designer dress. "We burn them tonight. Then we take the private jet to Antigua before the federal indictment lands tomorrow morning."

"The jet is grounded by the FAA, Victoria," Ethan whimpered.