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The phone was answered on the first ring.
The sound of heavy metal music blared from the other end, followed by a raspy voice distorted by a modulator. "You know the rules. Half upfront, no questions asked."
I sat in the darkness, the faint blue light from my phone screen illuminating the man sleeping downstairs—my husband. My fingers didn't tremble.
"The money's been transferred," I said calmly into the phone, my voice as cold as the icy rain outside. "I want all of Victoria Black's medical records for the past five years, her travel history, and the truth about her so-called 'car accident.' I want it all, no matter how dirty."
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