“I’m coming with you,” I said, throwing the thin blanket aside.

“Mrs. Prescott, the doctors advised you to remain under observation,” Miller said.

“My baby is safe, and I am not staying in this bed while my husband tries to tear my life apart,” I said.

I stood up, feeling a brief wave of dizziness before my feet found steady purchase on the cold linoleum floor.

I walked over to the small closet where my clothes had been hung.

Within twenty minutes, I was dressed in my dark wool coat, my flat leather shoes clicking against the pavement as we exited the hospital’s side entrance.

The Chicago air was damp and bitingly cold, carrying the scent of impending rain from the lake.

I rode in the back of the unmarked government sedan, watching the grey city skyline loom larger through the tinted window.

Agent Miller sat in the front passenger seat, staring straight ahead as the driver navigated the lunchtime traffic.

My mind kept turning over Vivian’s words about Arthur Vance’s ledger.

There was something else in those pages, something beyond the trust fund theft she had confessed to.