I could see the silver lighter in Beatrice’s right hand, the small flame flickering near her thumb.

“This is a fake,” Beatrice screamed suddenly, her voice cracking with rage.

“This isn’t an offshore account,” she yelled, stepping back toward the fuel. “You’re trying to trap me!”

“Beatrice, look at the bank logo,” Liam said, his voice rising in panic as he saw her step backward.

“No!” Beatrice shrieked. “You think I’m stupid!”

She spun around toward where Chloe had been tied.

Her eyes widened as she saw the empty space and the severed zip-ties on the floor.

Then, her gaze lifted and locked directly onto me.

“You,” Beatrice hissed, her face contorting into an ugly mask of hatred.

She raised the lighter high, her thumb pressing down hard on the metal wheel.

A small, bright flame leaped to life, casting a yellow glow across her face.

She pointed the flame down toward the dark puddle of fuel at her feet.

Before she could flick her wrist, a phone on the floor near the stage began to ring.

The screen lit up with a name that made me freeze.