Chapter 3

The blade came down. I rolled sideways off the mattress. The butcher knife sank deep into the Egyptian cotton, tearing a massive gash through the bed to the springs.

I scrambled across the carpet. My hand hit the heavy steel shaft of a golf club leaning in the corner. Silas had left his spare iron here months ago.

I wrapped my fingers around the rubber grip, swung it backward, and drove the steel head directly into the side of the killer’s kneecap.

Bone crunched with a sickening pop. The man grunted, his heavy body dropping onto one leg.

I didn't stop to breathe. I grabbed the heavy ceramic lamp off my nightstand and smashed it directly across his masked head.

The ceramic shattered into jagged pieces. The killer collapsed onto the rug, completely still.

Warm blood poured down my thigh from the first stab wound. My muscles gave out. I collapsed against the base of the bed, dragging myself over the carpet to reach my phone.

My bloody fingers smeared the glass screen as I dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" a female voice asked.

"I need police," I gasped, pressing a hand tight over the gash in my leg. "Fifth Avenue. The Sovereign Building. Penthouse..."

A gloved hand closed around my hair.

He hadn't stayed down. He violently yanked my head back, exposing my throat to the ceiling.

"Ma'am? I didn't copy that address. Are you there?" the dispatcher asked.

The cold edge of the butcher knife easily sliced across my neck. I tried to scream, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped my lips. Air bubbled through my own blood.

My phone dropped to the carpet next to the killer's boots. The screen lit up. It was exactly 12:00 AM.

The darkness swallowed me whole.

The suffocating smell of diesel exhaust filled my lungs. Concrete scraped my knees.

I was back on the street corner.

I pushed my sleeve up. The glowing number on my wrist shifted. The 2 faded, burning into a stark, neon 1.

One chance left. If I died this time, I stayed dead.

The delivery truck sped past me, jumping the curb and smashing into the metal barricade. I didn't even flinch at the impact.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Silas's name popped up on the screen.

I pressed decline.

My mind raced, trying to stitch the pieces together. The killer was supposed to be in the suburban backyard. Why did he show up inside my downtown penthouse?

The Sovereign Building had a 24-hour doorman. Fingerprint scanners secured the elevator. A heavy electronic deadbolt locked my front door.

The killer hadn't broken in. The digital keypad wasn't smashed. The system was bypassed by someone who already had the access code.

I didn't run blindly this time. I walked three blocks down the street to a tactical supply store. I bought a high-voltage stun gun, slid it into my coat pocket, and headed straight back to my penthouse.

I didn't turn on a single light inside the apartment. I locked the front door from the inside and stepped into the master bedroom's walk-in closet.

I pulled the closet door almost entirely shut, leaving just a narrow sliver of space to watch the bed. I turned my phone permanently on silent.

I waited in total darkness.

At exactly 11:30 PM, the electronic keypad on the front door chimed.

Someone was typing in my private access code.

The heavy residential door swung open. Footsteps walked across the hardwood floor. They weren't the heavy tactical boots of a killer. They were the sharp, measured clicks of expensive leather dress shoes.

The bedroom door pushed open. The hallway light spilled inside, illuminating the intruder.

It was Silas.

He didn't call my name. He didn't look toward the bathroom. He walked straight to the vanity table where I had dumped my handbag earlier today.

He yanked my leather purse open, dumping the contents aggressively onto the glass surface. He dug through the mess and pulled out a blue legal folder—my newly drafted trust fund documents.

He folded the thick stack of papers in half and shoved them into his tailored suit jacket.

His eyes landed on the bathroom counter. My five-carat diamond engagement ring sat next to the sink where I had taken it off to wash my hands.

Silas walked over, picked up the ring, and inspected the stone under the light.

"Refuses to transfer a dime to feed my son," Silas muttered to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Might as well not let this go to waste."

He slipped the diamond into his pocket.

He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

I pressed my sweating hand against the stun gun in my pocket. I didn't make a sound. I just watched him walk down the hall.

Silas stepped out of the apartment. He grabbed the edge of the front door to pull it shut.

Before the door met the frame, he pulled a folded business card from his pocket. He wedged it perfectly over the metal strike plate, blocking the latch, and gently pushed the door.

The deadbolt couldn't engage. The electronic lock was rendered useless.

He left the door visibly cracked open.

I stood completely frozen in the dark closet, the reality of the situation sinking into my bones.

The killer didn't track me down. My perfect husband broke in, stole my assets, and intentionally propped my door open for a murderer.