How My Husband Planned My Ruin and Built His Own Downfall
I swiped it against the reader.
The little light turned from red to green.
The lock clicked open.
I slipped inside, the heavy door closing silently behind me.
The hallway was brightly lit, smelling of chemicals and sterile metal.
I could hear the low hum of centrifuges in the distance.
I walked quickly down the corridor, looking for the intake station.
There was a desk with a computer monitor and a basket for incoming samples.
I stood behind the desk and woke the computer screen.
It was locked.
I looked around the desk.
A yellow sticky note was tucked under the keyboard.
On it was a scribbled username and password.
Hospital security was surprisingly lax when it came to internal staff.
I typed in the credentials.
The screen logged in, displaying the laboratory queue for the next day.
I searched for the name *Briggs, Courtney*.
Nothing came up.
I tried *Harlan, Courtney*.
Still nothing.
My heart began to race. Why wasn’t she in the system?
Then I remembered the travel dates and Carter Vance.
Could she have registered under a different name?
I searched for *Vance, Courtney*.