"I stood beside my sister’s coffin, one hand on the tiny casket ribbon meant for the baby she never got to hold, when her husband walked in with his mistress on his arm. My bl:ood ran cold. ‘You really thought I wouldn’t find out?’ I said, flashing my badge. For weeks, I’d gathered every lie, every message, every trace of bl:ood. And when I exposed him in front of everyone, his smile vanished—but that was only the beginning.

The visitor room at the federal holding center was cold and sanitized. A thick pane of bulletproof glass separated the two sides of the small room, with two silver intercom handsets mounted on either side.

Daniel Voss was led into the room by an officer. He looked gaunt; his designer clothes had been replaced by a loose, dark gray jumpsuit. His hair was messy, and the smug confidence that had defined his life was rapidly eroding into a paranoid, nervous energy.

He sat down across from the glass, picking up the heavy plastic handset with a quick, jerk motion.

Lena sat down on the other side. She did not pick up her handset immediately. She sat in complete silence, studying him through the scratched glass like a scientist examining a specimen under a microscope.

Daniel tapped impatiently on the glass. "Pick up the phone, Lena."

Lena slowly picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear.

"What do you want?" Daniel snapped, his voice raspy through the electronic speaker. "Pendelton told me you’re harassing Evelyn Reed. You’re abusing your federal position to construct a fake narrative because you can't accept that your sister had a medical emergency!"

"Evelyn handed over the briefcase, Daniel," Lena said calmly.

Daniel’s hand froze against the plastic receiver. A tiny twitch appeared beneath his left eye. "What briefcase?"

"The one containing hard drive Alpha-09," Lena replied, her voice smooth and measured. "File LOG_1024.wav. Recorded on October 14th at 10:42 PM."

The room seemed to drop ten degrees in temperature. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the telephone receiver.

"You remember that night, don't you, Daniel?" Lena continued softly. "The rain was hitting the bedroom window. You played that Dave Brubeck jazz album Maya liked. You brought her a mug of chamomile tea with two drops of Compound 48-B dissolved inside."

"That... that recording was private property," Daniel stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward the guard standing near the door. "It was obtained illegally! It’s inadmissible!"

"It was recovered under a lawful federal search warrant executed on your co-conspirator's premises," Lena said. "I listened to it an hour ago, Daniel. I heard Maya ask you why the tea tasted bitter. I heard you tell her you loved her while her liver was failing."

Daniel slammed his free fist against the bulletproof glass, leaving a smudged palm print. "She was ruining me! She was going to take half the company! She threatened to go to the SEC about the Cayman accounts!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Daniel gasped, realizing what he had just admitted out loud.

Lena smiled—a cold, terrifying smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Thank you, Daniel," Lena said softly into the microphone. "This room is equipped with dual-channel judicial recording for federal visitation logs. You just confessed to a capital motive on tape."

Daniel stared at her in utter horror. He dropped the handset, letting it dangle by its spiral cord, slamming his hands against the glass as if trying to tear through the bulletproof barrier with his bare nails.

"Lena! Lena, listen to me!" he screamed, his muffled voice barely penetrating the thick glass. "We can make a deal! The offshore money... six million dollars! I’ll give you the private keys! You can have it all! Just destroy the drive!"

Lena stood up slowly from her stool. She adjusted her coat, smoothing down her lapels, looking down at the broken, weeping coward behind the glass.