My father was thriving.

Off the toxic cocktail of medications Adrian had forced on him, his mind was sharper than ever.

We were running the company together now, as equals.

I looked down at my arm.

The angry purple bruises had long since faded, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.

The physical marks were gone.

The evidence of my survival, however, was safely locked in federal vaults—a permanent testament to the truth.