MY HUSBAND LAUGHED WHEN HIS MOTHER HUM.ILIAT.ED ME AT OUR WEDDING—SO I EMPTIED HER BANK ACCOUNTS AND UNCOVERED MY "DE.AD" FATHER'S SICK CONSPIRACY

The heavy brass lamp smashed into my mother’s shoulder, knocking the revolver from her hand. The gun clattered across the linoleum floor.

I didn't wait for her to recover. I grabbed my father’s briefcase, shoved the blackmail photos and the laptop inside, and bolted for the door.

As I ripped the door open, my father and Eleanor were running back up the motel walkway.

“She’s got the briefcase!” my mother screamed from inside the room.

My father drew his suppressed 9mm. Eleanor’s face contorted into pure rage.

I slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. Bullets instantly tore through the cheap wood, splintering the frame inches from my head.

I ran to the bathroom, locked that door too, and kicked out the small frosted window above the bathtub.

I shimmied through the narrow opening, dropping into the muddy alleyway behind the motel just as the front door was kicked open.

I hit the ground hard, rolling in the mud. I grabbed the briefcase and scrambled into the shadows of the adjacent diner's parking lot.

My father leaned out the broken bathroom window, scanning the dark alley, his gun raised.

“You can't run forever, Julianne!” my father shouted into the rain. “You don't have the password to that laptop!”

I hid behind a dumpster, panting, shivering in the freezing cold.

He was right. I had the physical machine, but without his biometric thumbprint, I couldn't access the crypto wallet holding the thirty million dollars.

I needed to break the encryption. But I also needed to deal with Frank Moretti, the union boss who was currently hunting Marcus.

I opened the briefcase under the dim glow of a streetlight. Tucked inside a leather portfolio was Eleanor’s personal ledger—including the direct phone number to Frank Moretti.

I pulled out my prepaid phone and dialed the number.

A gruff, terrifying voice answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “My name is Julianne Mercer. My mother-in-law and my father stole your thirty million dollars. And I know exactly where they are.”

“And why are you telling me this, little girl?” Moretti growled.

“Because I have the laptop with the money,” I said. “Meet me at the downtown First Fidelity Bank vault in one hour. Bring Marcus. If you don't, I drop the laptop in the river.”

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