My husband sta//bbed me twice just to defend his mistress over a tiny scratch. I woke up three days later in the ICU, but he had no idea that as I lay ble//eding out on our rug, I had secretly tapped ‘Record’ on my smartwatch...

The failed assassination attempt inside the hospital proved to be the fatal strategic error that completely destroyed Julian's defense strategy.

The sanitation worker was identified as Hector Morales, a former mercenary turned private security operator who had been paid two hundred thousand dollars directly from an off-shore Cayman Islands account linked to Julian Vance's personal trust.

Faced with a federal charge of attempted murder of a witness—which carried a mandatory life sentence without parole—Morales didn't hesitate. He signed a full confession within twelve hours of his arrest, implicating both Julian and Selina Cole in the plot to execute me before the trial could begin.

Three days later, in a small, windowless interrogation room at the county detention center, Assistant District Attorney Victoria Vance sat across from Selina Cole.

Selina looked completely unrecognizable from the glamorous, polished woman who had burst through my front door two weeks ago. Her expensive clothes were replaced by an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, her dark hair was matted and oily, and her manicured nails were bitten down to the quick.

Dr. Caleb Reed and I sat behind the two-way mirror in the observation room next door, watching the interaction through the glass. My stomach was securely rebound in reinforced surgical strapping, and I sat in a high-backed wheelchair, holding a warm cup of water in my lap.

"Ms. Cole," Victoria said, setting a thick blue folder on the metal table between them. "Mr. Morales has just provided a signed affidavit confirming that you met with him in the parking lot of the diner on 4th Street two hours before he entered the hospital."

Selina’s hands trembled violently against the cold steel of the table. "I... I didn't know what he was going to do! Julian told me to give him the money! Julian said it was just for security!"

"Don't lie to me, Selina," Victoria said softly, leaning forward, her green eyes locking onto the trembling woman like a hawk. "Julian’s legal team has already submitted their preliminary motion to the judge. Do you know what their primary strategy is?"

Selina blinked, her breathing fast and shallow. "What... what strategy?"

"They are framing you as the sole mastermind," Victoria declared, pulling a document from the folder. "Julian’s lead attorney is preparing to testify that Julian was under severe psychological coercion by you. They claim you faked that scratch on your arm using a razor blade in the car. They claim you told Julian that Nora had a gun in her purse. They are putting the entire weight of the double homicide and the hospital attack squarely on your shoulders."

Selina’s face went completely dead white. "He... he wouldn't do that to me... he loves me! We've loved each other since high school!"

Victoria scoffed—a dry, pitying sound. "Julian Vance loves two things in this world, Ms. Cole: himself, and his seat at Vance Global. You were just a convenient tool he used when he got bored with his marriage. And now that the ship is sinking, he is throwing you overboard first to save his own skin."

Selina stared at the blue folder on the table. A long, agonizing ten seconds passed in total silence.

Then, her shoulders collapsed. A harsh, hideous sob tore from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, weeping with a visceral, hysterical terror that echoed through the observation speaker.

"It was all a lie..." Selina wailed, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. "The scratch... I did it myself with a key in his car! I told him Nora threatened me because I wanted him to leave her! I wanted her out of the house so I could take over as his wife!"

Victoria didn't interrupt. She reached over and activated the digital recorder sitting on the metal table.

"Keep speaking, Ms. Cole," Victoria commanded quietly. "Tell me everything about the afternoon of the stabbing."

"Julian knew she didn't attack me!" Selina screamed through her tears, her eyes wide with unhinged rage. "When we walked into the house, he saw her sitting on the couch in her pajamas! He whispered to me in the hall: 'Watch this, Selina. I'll make sure she never bothers us again.' He picked up the knife on purpose! He wanted her dead so he wouldn't have to pay her fifty percent of his Vance Global stock in a divorce!"

Behind the two-way mirror, I closed my eyes, a long, quiet breath leaving my chest.

The last remaining piece of Julian's pathetic defense—the claim of a sudden, heat-of-the-moment passion triggered by a desire to protect Selina—had just been obliterated into dust.