He Ordered My Death, Then Autopsied My Body.

Chapter 3 The Secret Handover

The top page landed faceup. It was my divorce petition, with my signature written cleanly across the bottom.

Declan picked it up. The paper shook between his fingers, and a muscle moved once in his jaw.

“Why did you freeze the accounts of a woman who walked away with nothing?” Elias asked.

He pointed to the pages on the floor. “She signed three days ago and left it with me. She also gave me the real ledgers, fixed the security holes Mia created, and transferred every share back to the Sterling family trust. She didn’t take a cent.”

“The only thing she bought was a one-way ticket to Geneva. She was leaving for good.”

Declan’s grip slipped on the petition. I had last seen that look after the car crash, when the doctors told him they could not promise I would wake. He caught the page, squared it against the others, and handed the stack back as though they were routine forms.

“A one-way ticket. Dramatic.” He gave a short, dry laugh and folded his arms. “You still don’t see it, Elias? She’s declaring war.”

I watched him turn every page Elias brought into another accusation against me.

“She leaves the money so she can play the victim. Meanwhile, she takes our most valuable asset, the merger intel, to Geneva and sells it to the highest bidder.” Declan tapped my signature. “Mia caught her. This petition is Chloe’s cover.”

Elias stared at him. “You’re choosing an intern over your wife?”

“Mia is loyal!” Declan swept an arm across the instrument tray. Scalpels and clamps struck the floor and skidded toward Elias. “Chloe is the traitor. Get out of my morgue, Elias. Get out!”

He shoved his brother toward the door. “When you find Chloe, tell her I’ll give her the war she wants. I’ll hunt her down and let her rot wherever she’s hiding.”

He slammed the door and stood with his chest rising hard. When he turned back, his gaze settled on my burned body. His lip pulled away from his teeth, as though the unidentified corpse had somehow taken my side.

He reached for a clean pair of gloves.

The door opened again before he put them on.

A junior technician from dental forensics hurried in with his lab coat half buttoned and his face drained of color. He carried a transparent evidence bag in a pair of tweezers, but his hand shook enough to make the bag rustle.

A small piece of metal lay intact inside.

“Doctor Sterling, we found it in the victim’s lower jaw.” The technician held the bag under the fluorescent light. “The fire didn’t melt it. It’s a custom titanium implant root, and the serial base is intact.”