Camila, being who she is, had quietly started documenting every transaction — the forged deeds, the fraudulent liens, the pattern connecting six families who were supposed to look like strangers.

She was building, without quite naming it to herself yet, a public-corruption case.

And Trent Prescott discovered what she was doing.

That was the real reason behind the attack.

It was never about trespassing, or harassment, or an accident on a stairwell.

My wife had found the thread that unraveled the Prescott kingdom, and they had tried to silence her before she could pull it.

What they did not know was that she had already pulled it, weeks before, and handed the other end to the federal government, and that the man now sitting beside her hospital bed was holding it too.