The stairwell door opened above us. Nathan’s voice echoed down. “Claire.”

Vanessa stepped closer and pushed something into my palm — a small flash drive. “He killed her career,” she whispered. “Then he let her die.”

Nathan appeared above us, breathing hard, his flawless hospital expression gone. “Claire,” he said, more softly. “Give that to me.”

I looked at my husband. Then I closed my hand around the drive.

Chapter 4 — What’s on It

For several seconds no one moved. The fluorescent lights hummed. Beyond the walls, an announcement requested a respiratory therapist in the east wing — ordinary hospital life continuing inches away, separated from us by concrete, fire doors, and reputation.

Nathan stood three steps above me. Vanessa stood one step below. And I stood between the woman who’d falsely claimed to be my husband’s wife and the man who’d spent eleven years convincing me he never panicked.