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Chapter 7 - The Digital Trap"Let me see those statements," I demanded, stepping forward.

The officer held the papers out just enough for me to read the header. The IP address listed was indeed registered to the hospital's internal administrative network. But the user ID associated with the login credentials wasn't mine.

It belonged to Dr. Harrison.

My mind raced. Harrison? The senior attending who had tried to block me from operating on Elias? The same Harrison who had been uncomfortably cozy with Victoria’s family foundation for years, securing major donations for the hospital's new wing in exchange for preferential treatment?

"Dr. Harrison logs into this network from the third-floor lounge," I said steadily, looking the police officer dead in the eye. "And if you check the security badge logs for the third-floor terminal at 2:00 AM, you'll find that my badge was sitting in my locker in the ER while someone else used Harrison's credentials."

Victoria sneered, her face twisted in malice. "Nice try, doctor. But Dr. Harrison is currently on a medical leave flight to Zurich. Convenient, isn't it? He left town three hours before the accident."

Zurich.

The pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity. Harrison wasn't just a corrupt doctor; he was Victoria’s family fixer. When Elias broke off the engagement tonight, Victoria's empire—and her family's corporate merger—threatened to collapse. They needed Elias out of the picture, or under their complete control. And framing me for attempted murder while eliminating Elias in a staged "accident" would destroy me, ruin my career, and leave Victoria in control of Elias's estate.

"You didn't just want to frame me," I whispered, staring down at Victoria with utter disgust. "You wanted to finish the job you and Harrison started on that highway."

"You're raving," Victoria hissed, grabbing the officer's arm. "Arrest her! She's a danger to the public!"

The officer looked between Victoria's high-priced attorney and me, visibly hesitating. "Dr. Brooks, I'm going to have to ask you to accompany us down to the precinct for questioning—"

"She's not going anywhere."

A harsh, raspy voice cut through the air from the doorway of the ICU corridor.

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We all turned.

There, leaning heavily against the doorframe in a hospital gown, IV pole in one hand and a bandage wrapped around his head, stood Elias. He looked pale as a ghost, his eyes hollow and bruised, but the look in his gaze was pure, unadulterated fury.

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