​Dust danced in the pale afternoon light as Garrett pushed open the squeaky front door of his childhood home.The house smelled of mold and old memories. Two days. That was all that remained of the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period for his divorce. Finally, the end was within reach. Once Friday passed, his divorce would be finalized, and this rotting, empty shell of a house would become his permanent home. The thought alone made his chest feel heavy.He dragged a cardboard box across the living room floor, his knees popping under the strain. Five years of nonstop physical labor had worn his body down to the bone. Working three jobs a day just to scrape together enough cash to pay off his late parents’ crippling debts had left his hands rough and damaged, but it was the hollow feeling in his chest that hurt the most.He tipped the box to clear out the old high school textbooks when something hard clinked against the floorboards.Garrett stooped down and picked it up. It was a pl

Early in the morning, Garrett was awake in his dusty apartment he had paid for with five years of backbreaking sweat, moving quietly through the master bedroom, a pair of tweezers in one hand and three small Ziploc bags laid out on the counter.He wasn’t packing his clothes. Not yet.From the rim of the sink, he picked up strands of dark hair left behind on Evelyn’s hairbrush and dropped it into the first bag. Next, he went into Toby’s bedroom, picked up the boy’s toothbrush from the holder, wrapped the bristles in a fresh tissue, and sealed it inside the second bag.His hand didn’t shake. The crushing panic from yesterday had burned off, replaced by a cold focus.Just as he slipped the two baggies into the hidden lining of his duffel bag, the sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the apartment.Garrett zipped his duffel up halfway, threw a couple of old shirts over the top and stepped out into the hallway.Evelyn walked in first, tossing her handbag onto the entry

The heater in Garrett’s old car rattled loudly, blowing barely warm, dusty air against his hands as he drove through the morning traffic.On the passenger seat, his duffel bag sat open just enough for him to see the three transparent plastic bags inside.He glanced at his rough hands gripping the wheel. Five years of lifting drywall, moving pallets, and driving late-night shifts had left them hard and worn. He had worked himself to the bone for a wife who treated him like a servant.He wasn't angry anymore. The fury he'd felt outside Toby's school had hardened into something colder—like ice.Ten minutes later, Garrett pulled into the parking lot of Veritas Forensics, a low, gray-brick building tucked inside an industrial park outside the city. A small sign beside the glass doors read: Clinical Testing & Diagnostic Services.He grabbed his bag, turned off the car, and stepped into the damp morning air.Inside, the lobby smelled of floor wax and old coffee. A small TV in the corner play

Victoria leaned back, studying the screen.“Moving two billion dollars isn’t as simple as a bank transfer,” she said. “If you sell it through a public app or put it straight into your local account, the tax authorities will flag it, the bank could freeze the money, and your wife’s lawyers might find out before the day is over.”Garrett stayed silent for a moment. “Then what do we do?”“We build a legal wall around it,” Victoria said, tapping the screen with her pen. “First, I’ll set up a company for you in Singapore. Once it’s registered, we’ll move the digital money into the company as assets you owned before you got married.”Garrett leaned forward. “And after that?”“Then I bring in my firm’s international tax experts and crypto brokers,” Victoria said. “They’ll handle the sale privately instead of dumping everything on the open market. That keeps the price from dropping while we sell.”She paused, meeting his eyes.“My team will structure the entire process so the money ends up in

“Two targets,” Garrett said, his voice flat. “My first target is my wife, Evelyn Dalton.”Jason picked up the paper and adjusted his reading glasses. “Give me the specifics.”“Evelyn Ross. Thirty years old! Senior marketing specialist at Apex Media Group. Her office hours are eight-thirty to five, but for the past six months, she’s claimed to work late three or four nights a week.”Jason’s pen scratched across his notepad. “Does she drive?”“A white 2021 Toyota Camry. It’s registered under both our names, but I paid it off last year.”“What about her routine?”“She drops our son off at school at eight-fifteen every morning. Tuesdays and Thursdays, she claims to go to a gym on 4th Street after work. Verify whether she’s actually going inside or meeting someone in the parking lot.”Jason nodded, jotting down the details. “Alright. If she’s not working late or at the gym, my people will find out where she really goes. Now, who’s target number two?”Garrett’s jaw tightened slightly.“Her