The concrete floor of the basement was always freezing, even in the middle of spring. To six-year-old Lily, the damp chill felt like cold iron pressing against her small bones.

By 2:00 p.m. that afternoon, Julian Sterling called from his office, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.

"Arthur! You won't believe what just happened!"

"Slow down, Julian. Catch your breath. What's going on?" Arthur asked, sitting at his kitchen island while Lily happily ate a grilled cheese sandwich across from her.

"Judge Harrison signed the emergency asset freeze and the full sole custody order thirty minutes ago," Julian said rapidly. "And get this—right after we filed, David Thorne's office tried to block the motion using an emergency stay, claiming you were a flight risk. But because we had Marcus's security footage attached as an exhibit of ongoing domestic abuse and intimidation, the judge didn't just deny their stay—he ordered an independent review of David’s D.A. division for official corruption!"

Arthur let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. "Thank God. Is Vanessa served?"

"Served, processed, and locked out of every account she owns," Julian confirmed. "Her credit cards are declining at boutiques as we speak. Her BMW was repossessed ten minutes ago from her downtown apartment parking garage. They are completely cut off."

"Good," Arthur said, his voice hard. "They wanted to play dirty? Now they can play bankrupt."

"One more thing, Arthur," Julian added, his tone turning serious. "David Thorne hasn't given up. My contacts in the police union say David is desperate. He’s liquidating personal assets, trying to scrape together cash for a private fixer. If he realizes he can't win legally, he might try something foolish. Stay inside. Keep the doors locked. I'm sending two private security contractors to guard your perimeter starting tonight."

"Send them," Arthur agreed. "I'm not taking any chances."

That evening, the house felt different. The oppressive, toxic cloud that had hung over the rooms for months was finally gone. Lily was upstairs in her actual, beautiful pink bedroom—not hiding in a cold basement—playing happily with her dolls while soft lullabies played from her stereo.

Arthur sat in his study, reviewing the final drafts of his corporate restructuring plan, when his computer screen suddenly flashed black.

A command prompt window popped up, typing letters onto the screen automatically.

HELLO, ARTHUR.

Arthur frowned, leaning closer to the monitor. He tried to move his mouse, but the cursor was locked.

YOU THINK YOU WON.YOU THINK DAVID THORNE IS YOUR ONLY PROBLEM.LOOK OUT YOUR FRONT WINDOW.

Arthur’s blood ran cold. He stood up instantly, grabbing his phone, and walked quickly to the front window of his study, parting the blinds just an inch.

Parked across the street, right beneath the streetlamp, was a matte-black SUV with no license plates. Its headlights were off. But in the backseat window, a red laser dot flickered, pointing directly at the glass of Arthur’s window.

Before he could duck, his phone rang. It was an incoming call from an unlisted number.