The harsh fluorescent light of the Oakhaven Springs kitchen hummed like an angry hornet, cutting through the heavy pre-dawn silence.

The autumn air in Oakhaven Springs carried the sharp scent of woodsmoke and turning leaves, but the warmth of the courthouse steps felt miles away. Grace and Katherine rented a small, unassuming apartment three towns over, trading the heavy memories of the family estate for bare walls and peace. Yet, secrets of a multi-million-dollar corporate syndicate rarely die quietly in prison cells. Late one Tuesday night, as Grace washed the dinner dishes, the landline phone shrieked against the quiet kitchen. Katherine picked it up, expecting a call from Agent Miller regarding the final asset liquidation. Instead, a digitized, metallic voice whispered through the receiver: “The trial was just a local performance, Katherine. The real partners never sat in the courtroom. Look out your kitchen window.” Katherine froze, slowly pulling back the lace curtain to look down at the empty street. A lone black sedan idled beneath the flickering streetlamp, its headlights dark, watching their window like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.