Chapter 4

Chamberlin Psychiatric Hospital sat on the edge of the city. Its walls were wrapped in barbed wire, giving off an air of death.

I was locked in an isolation room, arms and legs pinned inside a straitjacket. Dr. Cohen walked in holding an electroshock baton.

"Skye, Mr. Ackman says your treatment ends the moment you remember where that ten million went."

"You want me to pay it back?"

I spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Go ask Desmond yourself, you son of a bitch."

Dr. Cohen shot his men a look.

"Turn up the current. He's still got some fight in him."

The shock tore through me and I blacked out instantly.

Half-conscious, I drifted back to the stage from the day of the awards ceremony.

That ten million had never been company funds at all. It was dirty money that hadn't been laundered yet. Desmond had deposited it into my account to use my identity as a shell.

Reporting me for embezzlement was just a way to legally freeze the money as "criminal proceeds." Once frozen, the funds slipped outside any real oversight.

Then, once I died in a convenient "accident," the money would flow back into his pocket through "proper legal channels." The cash would come home, and its illegal origins would be washed clean along with it.

"Still can't remember?"

Dr. Cohen leaned in close to my ear.

"Skye, Mr. Ackman already signed an organ donation agreement on your behalf. Your heart happens to be a match for his daughter."

My pupils contracted. In that instant, a storm of broken memory fragments slammed together in my mind.

In my last life, in my final moments at the psychiatric hospital, I'd faintly heard Dr. Cohen at the end of the hallway, speaking into a phone in a hushed voice.

"...Don't worry, Mr. Ackman, the match results are in. It's a perfect fit. I'll take care of everything before next month's surgery and make sure he dies of accidental brain death..."

At the time, half out of my mind, I'd written it off as a dying hallucination. But now those cold words drove into my spine like steel needles.

The money laundering had only ever been a side project. From the very beginning, they'd been after my body. A heart transplant. That had been the real goal all along.

"Doctor, Mr. Ackman is here," a nurse announced, stepping into the room.

Desmond walked in wearing a suit, the medal pinned to his chest. He looked down at me.

"Skye, it's a lot quieter in here than your office, isn't it?"

I stared back at him coldly. A bold theory flashed through my mind, and I decided to bait him.

"Desmond, that ten million never actually got transferred anywhere, did it?"

Desmond sneered.

"The money vanished right out of your account."

"No. It didn't vanish." I fixed my eyes on the red light glowing on the medal. "It's on you. That's a physical key. That ten million in digital currency is locked inside that medal."

Desmond's expression shifted.

"Desmond, even if you kill me, you'll never get your hands on that money."

I smiled.

"I set up a self-destruct program. The moment my heart stops, the key locks forever."

Desmond froze for a second, then burst into wild laughter.

"How do you even know about the medal's secret? Besides, what if you do know? Don't make me laugh. You think you're the one who set up a self-destruct program?"

"You're wrong. I helped build the company's system," I said evenly, staring him down. "That ten million has been sitting right under both our noses this whole time."

Desmond's smile froze on his face.

That was when I caught a reflection at the end of the hallway. Vivian stood there with a scalpel, aimed straight at Desmond's back. I knew she wanted that ten million just as badly.

I burst out laughing, watching the terror spread across Desmond's face.

"Desmond, that ten million... it's in your throat!"