My husband locked me inside a deep freezer while I was pregnant with twins. I screamed and begged him to let me out, but he walked away and left me there, knowing I was already having contractions. As the cold became unbearable, I realized I was going into labor. I thought my babies and I were going to die—until the one person I never expected to see appeared at the door. My sworn enemy had come to save me. And what she told me about my husband made me realize this had never been an accident.

Ten minutes later, Sophia Drake walked into the dimly lit underground parking garage beneath her office building, her knees trembling so badly she could barely hold her car keys.

She reached her luxury SUV and stepped toward the driver’s door.

"Don't turn around, Sophia," a voice instructed from the shadows behind a concrete pillar.

Sophia stopped dead, her heart hammering in her chest.

I stepped out from behind the pillar, wearing a dark trench coat, my hair pulled back, looking radiantly alive and terrifyingly composed. Beside me stood Evelyn, holding a silenced handgun securely at her side.

Sophia turned slowly, her eyes wide with unbelievable shock. She stumbled back against her car, gasping for air.

"You... you're alive..." Sophia stammered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "My God... you're alive!"

"Disappointed?" I asked, taking a step closer. "I know you were expecting a twenty-four-million-dollar commission on my death."

"I didn't know he was going to kill you!" Sophia cried out, collapsing onto her knees on the cold concrete. "I swear to God, Clara! Victor told me you wanted a divorce and were trying to bankrupt him! He told me the insurance was just a bargaining chip for his business loans! I didn't know about Vault 7 until after it happened!"

"Save your pathetic lies for the federal prosecutor, Sophia," Evelyn interjected coldly, stepping forward and tossing a legal document onto the hood of the car. "That is a full immunity agreement prepared by the United States Attorney’s Office. You sign it, you wear a wire, and you give us Victor on a silver platter. Or you take the fall as a co-conspirator in double attempted murder and capital fraud."

Sophia looked at the document, then up at me. "Double attempted murder?"

"I was carrying twins, Sophia," I said, my voice hardening like tempered steel. "Victor tried to murder two newborn infants along with their mother. If you think the justice system will show you mercy when this goes to trial without a deal, you are gravely mistaken."

Sophia sobbed, wiping her face with the sleeve of her silk blouse. "What... what do you want me to do?"

"Victor demanded an emergency five-million-dollar advance payment by Friday," I said, leaning down so my eyes were level with hers. "You are going to call him tonight. You are going to tell him that the board has approved a secret, off-the-books advance payout in cash and certified bank drafts—to be delivered in person at the Annual Pharmaceutical Leadership Gala this Saturday at the Drake Hotel."

Sophia blinked. "The Gala? Victor is scheduled to give the keynote memorial speech for you at that event!"

"I know," I smiled—a cold, beautiful, deadly smile. "He’s going to stand on that stage in front of five hundred industry leaders, the press, and the city’s elite, playing the grieving widower one last time."