Callahan didn’t flinch. He reached into the folder and produced a second document—a certified forensic cyber-investigation subpoena from the Department of Homeland Security.
“On October twelfth, an encrypted order for twelve vials of pharmaceutical-grade digitalis extract was placed through a dark-web vendor operating out of Rotterdam,” Callahan recited. “The IP address was traced to the private, hard-wired network of your study in the **Hamptons** estate. The authorization payment was cleared via an offshore cryptocurrency wallet registered to your personal secondary mobile number.”
My blood turned to ice water.
My secondary phone.
Three weeks ago, my husband, **Silas Thorne**, had come into my home office holding his tablet with an expression of tender, self-deprecating frustration. He had kissed my temple, murmured that our private home security network was rejecting his remote login, and asked if he could register the two-factor authentication bypass to my private secondary line.
I had unlocked the phone. I had handed it to him with a smile. I had trusted him with the casual, careless certainty of a woman who believed her marriage was a sanctuary.