My husband's coffin wasn't even lowered into the ground before his mother threw me out, ripped my wedding ring off my finger, and called my unborn baby a fraud. Thirty seconds later, his final video turned her entire world upside down.

Two weeks in the Sonoma house felt like two years. I lived in a state of hyper-vigilance, terrified that every car passing on the gravel road was a hitman sent by Genevieve.

Thornecroft visited every few days, bringing supplies and updates. "She’s desperate, Isabelle. She’s trying to contest the will, but the trust is airtight. She’s currently under investigation for the embezzlement I exposed at the funeral, but she has allies in the DA’s office. She’s not down yet."

I spent my days analyzing the journals. I discovered that Julian’s car wasn't just 'sabotaged'; it had been intercepted by a remote override system used in high-end vehicle security. Someone had hacked the car’s onboard computer from a remote location.

I started digging into the digital trail Julian left behind. I found an encrypted folder labeled 'The Architect.' It contained a video file—a conversation between Genevieve and a man I recognized as Julian’s primary business rival, Marcus Vane. They weren't just plotting to kill Julian; they were planning to use my child as a puppet heir to control the entire Thornecroft conglomerate.

My blood ran cold. My baby wasn't just a threat to their ego; he was a target.

I needed proof, not just of the embezzlement, but of the murder. I reached out to an old contact of Julian’s—a former investigative journalist named Elena. I didn't tell her where I was, only that I had the key to the story of the decade. But as I sent the encrypted file, a red light blinked on my laptop.