I replaced the lubricant in my husband’s bag with industrial glue after I caught him with my brother’s wife. At 2:00 a.m., the hospital called. “Mrs. Rollins, we can’t separate the two of them.” I arrived carrying six months’ worth of evidence in a folder tucked under my arm, but what I found inside his safe turned that affair into something far more serious.

Vincent hauled Justin and me into the back of his pickup truck just as gunfire erupted behind us. Bullets pinged harmlessly against the reinforced steel tailgate as Vincent gunned the engine, executing a brutal J-turn and speeding down an off-ramp into an industrial alleyway.

"How did you find us?" Justin gasped, pressing a towel against the cut on his forehead.

"I had a secondary GPS relay hardwired into the chassis of your SUV that operated on an analog radio frequency," Vincent explained, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Arthur’s digital jammer couldn't block it. When your telemetry died, I knew they made a move."

"They tried to kill us on an open highway," I said, wiping blood from my cheek. "Arthur is accelerating his timeline. He knows we talked to Kenneth."

Vincent nodded grimly. "He knows. And while you were at the gala, his men made a move on the First Continental Bank of Denver. Someone triggered a false fire alarm in the building an hour ago. Julian Sterling’s safety deposit vault is being cleared out under an emergency transfer warrant as we speak."

"We're losing the evidence," Justin groaned in despair.

"No, we're not," I replied, a surge of adrenaline cutting through the lingering dizziness. "Arthur’s men are moving the files physically because Kenneth gave us the digital lockouts. Where would Sterling take a physical ledger of that scale?"

Vincent tapped the console screen. "Centennial Private Airfield. Sterling has a chartered twin-engine turboprop scheduled for Chicago at 3:00 AM."

"He’s consolidating everything in Chicago," I realized. "That's Arthur's old headquarters. If those paper trails cross state lines into Illinois, Arthur's corrupt judges will bury the warrants in jurisdictional red tape for months."

"Then we don't let that plane leave Denver," Justin said fiercely.

"We can't just storm an airport tarmac again, Justin," I warned him. "The FAA and the FBI have tighter security protocols after Kenneth’s stunt. If we get caught in another airport standoff, we’ll be the ones in handcuffs."

"We don't need to storm the plane," Vincent said with a cold, calculating grin. "We have an inside card they don't know we're holding."

Vincent pulled out a second phone and hit speed dial. He put it on speaker.

"Vincent? Is it done?" a woman's voice answered nervously.

It was Maya.

I stared at the phone in shock. Maya had taken a plea deal months ago, agreeing to community supervision and probation for her role in Kenneth's initial scheme.

"Maya has been trying to clear her name with the federal prosecutor," Vincent explained quietly. "And guess who reached out to her yesterday offering a million dollars to be a courier for Sterling?"

"Arthur Vance thought Maya was still bitter enough to play ball," Maya said through the speaker, her voice trembling but determined. "He asked me to carry a sealed briefcase onto the 3:00 AM flight to Chicago. Sabrina... I ruined your family once. I am not going to let this monster destroy you."