The rain fell like nails against the marble headstone, and I couldn’t feel my fingers around the roses. Dad’s name gleamed wetly under the gray sky. Then I saw them—Daniel and that woman—standing too close beneath a black umbrella, whispering like lovers at a picnic, not a funeral. My stomach dropped. But it was Vincent who broke me. He grabbed my arm, voice low: 'It wasn’t natural causes, Cathy. Your father was poisoned. And your husband paid the doctor.'\n\nI stumbled back, vision blurring. This couldn’t be real. Daniel had held me last night, whispered 'I’m here for you,' while planning my father’s obituary. Now Vincent was offering a burner phone, a safe house, a way to fight. 'You want the truth?' he said. 'Or do you want to bury another lie?'\n\nMy purse weighed heavy with my father’s encrypted journal. One call could start a war. One step toward Daniel could end me. But staying silent meant letting a killer wear my father’s watch at dinner.