I went home for car papers—and overheard my husband laughing on the phone: “I messed

The realization that Logan had orchestrated something far more sinister than just a plan to harm me sent a new wave of terror crashing over me. My mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragments of a nightmare that seemed too surreal to be true. The email—a confirmation for a funeral service—was undeniable evidence that his intentions weren’t limited to a mere accident.

I hurriedly dialed my sister Megan’s number again, my fingers trembling as they tapped the screen. The phone rang once, twice, and then she picked up.

“Claire?” Her voice was laced with concern.