I needed to know how the people who tore my life apart five years ago had found me again.

“Let my security handle this,” Damon said, his hand reaching for my arm.

“Your security is the reason we are trapped in this room,” I said, pulling away from him.

The screen blinked, displaying a list of encrypted outgoing data packets from five years ago.

The origin point of the leak was the private clinic in Chicago.

It was the very clinic where I had received my pregnancy confirmation.

I scrolled down, my breath catching in my throat as the file metadata loaded.

A name was buried in the digital signature of the PDF attachment.

The attachment contained my personal medical records and the positive test results.

The author of the digital file was Dr. Elaine Brooks.

But there was another document cached right alongside it.

It was a bank routing confirmation for an international wire transfer.

“She didn’t just lose my records,” I whispered.

“What is it?” Damon asked, leaning over my shoulder.

His breath was warm against my neck, a sharp contrast to the freezing air coming from the vents.