I replaced the lubricant in my husband’s bag with industrial glue after I caught him with my brother’s wife. At 2:00 a.m., the hospital called. “Mrs. Rollins, we can’t separate the two of them.” I arrived carrying six months’ worth of evidence in a folder tucked under my arm, but what I found inside his safe turned that affair into something far more serious.

The post-anesthesia care unit on the third floor of Saint Anthony Medical Center was dead quiet at 5:00 a.m.

The surgical procedure had taken nearly two and a half hours. The specialized surgical team had managed to separate Kenneth and Maya, but the procedure had required extensive skin grafting and reconstructive suturing. They were now in separate recovery bays, separated by a heavy curtain, both hooked up to IV drips, heart monitors, and morphine pumps.

When Justin, Marcus Vance, and the two federal agents walked into the recovery unit behind me, the night nurse tried to protest, but Agent Ross simply held up his federal badge and a signed warrant.

I walked up to the side of Kenneth's bed.

He was groggy, his eyes half-open, blinking slowly through the haze of heavy pain medication and general anesthesia. When he recognized me standing over him, a faint, dopey smile touched his lips, before the memory of the night came rushing back, turning his smile into a grimace of fear.

"Sabrina..." he slurred, his voice dry and raspy from the intubation tube. "I'm... I'm out of surgery. The pain... it's terrible..."

"I know it is, Kenneth," I said softly, reaching out to gently adjust the blanket over his chest. "But the real pain hasn't even started yet."

Kenneth blinked, trying to focus his hazy eyes on the people standing behind me. He saw Justin, whose eyes were filled with pure, murderous hatred. He saw Marcus Vance. And then he saw the two federal agents holding heavy steel handcuffs.

"What... what is this?" Kenneth stammered, panic cutting through his morphine haze. "Sabrina, what did you do?"

"I opened the safe, Kenneth," I said.

The groggy, confused look vanished from his face instantly. His heart monitor began to beep faster, its steady rhythm rising to a sharp, frantic ping-ping-ping-ping.

"I found the Swiss toxicology report from July 2023," I continued, leaning over his bed so my face was inches from his. "I found the synthetic luteal inhibitors you put in my morning tea. I found the shadow ledger showing the twelve million dollars you stole from the New Mexico bridge project. And I found Maya's signed blackmail agreement."

Kenneth began to hyperventilate. "No... no, Sabrina, listen to me! That wasn't me! It was Maya! She forced me to do all of it! She threatened to kill you if I didn't give her the money!"

On the other side of the curtain, a loud gasp echoed out, followed by the frantic rustle of hospital sheets.

The curtain was yanked open by Agent Miller.

Maya was sitting up in her bed, her face pale, her bandaged torso wrapped tightly in white gauze. She looked at Kenneth with pure, unadulterated venom.

"You lying coward!" Maya shrieked, her voice raspy and broken. "You killed Arthur Rollins! You told me you put digitalis in his decaf coffee every morning for a month! You told me he was an old fool who deserved to die because he wouldn't make you CEO!"

"Shut up, Maya! Shut your mouth!" Kenneth screamed, trying to sit up, but groaning in agony as his surgical stitches pulled against his skin.

"He showed me the Swiss report!" Maya yelled at Agent Ross, pointing her trembling, bandaged finger directly at Kenneth. "He kept it in his safe to threaten me! He told me if I ever left him, he would frame me for Arthur's murder! I have text messages from him! I have voicemails!"

"Agent Ross," Marcus Vance spoke up, handing a digital flash drive to the federal officer. "This drive contains encrypted backups of all communications extracted from Ms. Mitchell's cloud account over the last three hours under subpoena. It confirms her statement that Kenneth Rollins knowingly and deliberately administered toxic doses of digitalis to Arthur Rollins with the intent to commit murder for financial gain."

Special Agent Ross stepped up to Kenneth's bedside, pulled his right hand out from under the blanket, and clicked a heavy steel handcuff around his wrist, attaching it securely to the metal hospital bed rail.

"Kenneth Rollins," Agent Ross read from a small laminated card in his pocket, "you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, and first-degree murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Kenneth began to sob hysterically, his body shaking, the metal handcuffs rattling against the bedframe with a loud, pathetic clatter. "Sabrina... please! Talk to them! I loved you! Everything I did, I did for us! We can start over! Please!"

I looked at the man I had spent five years loving, the man who had systematically destroyed my father, my health, my confidence, and my family.

"I don't even know who you are, Kenneth," I said, my voice dead, empty, and final. "And by the time you leave state prison, you won't even have a name left."