Chapter 2

My hands shook as I dialed 911, the phone slippery with sweat and tears. "Emergency services, what's your emergency?"

"My family is trapped in the wilderness with killer bees," I gasped out the location from William's last call, my voice breaking. "They need immediate rescue."

The next four hours blurred together in a nightmare of waiting. I paced the resort lobby, ignored curious stares from other guests, and called Grady's phone seventeen times. Each call went straight to voicemail.

When the search and rescue team finally returned, their grim faces told me everything before they spoke a word.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the team leader said quietly. "We found them, but it was too late. The bee stings, combined with the heat and their age... there was nothing we could do."

The world tilted sideways. Martha's warm smile, William's gentle laugh, Marcus's adventurous spirit—all gone. Because of a map that led them into hell.

I finally reached Grady at midnight from my hotel room, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Jesus, Selene, do you know what time it is?" His voice was thick with annoyance, not grief.

"Your parents are dead, Grady." The words felt like glass in my throat. "Marcus too. They were attacked by killer bees because of a fake trail map."

Silence stretched between us. Then: "What do you mean, fake?"

"Someone deliberately gave them a map that led them into danger. Your family is dead because—"

"Because you were careless," he cut me off, his voice turning cold. "I trusted you to keep them safe, and you let them wander off alone. Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost? Funeral arrangements, flying their bodies back, all because you couldn't be bothered to watch them properly."

My breath caught. "Grady, your parents just died. Don't you feel anything?"

"I feel like my wife is wasteful and irresponsible," he snapped. "Figure out the cheapest options and stop calling me with your hysteria. Some of us have important things to deal with."

The line went dead. I stared at the phone, my heart shattering into pieces I wasn't sure I could ever put back together.

---

At the morgue the next morning, I forced myself to look at their peaceful faces one last time. The coroner handed me their personal effects in plastic bags—watches, wallets, and clutched in Marcus's rigid fingers, the trail map that had killed them.

I spread it on the metal table, studying every detail with new eyes. The landmarks were wrong. The distances were impossible. The trail that supposedly led to "breathtaking views" actually ended at a cliff face above a bee colony.

"This isn't right," I whispered, then louder: "This map is completely fabricated."

The ranger I'd called arrived within an hour, a weathered man named Tom Bradley who'd worked these mountains for twenty years.

"Ma'am, I've never seen this trail in my life," he said after examining the map. "And I know every inch of this wilderness. Look here—" He pointed to the resort logo. "This looks professional, but the landmarks are all wrong. Someone made this specifically to lead people into the most dangerous part of the forest."

"You mean someone did this on purpose?"

"I'm afraid so. This isn't a mistake—it's attempted murder."

---

I drove home in a daze, the fake map burning in my purse like evidence of a crime I couldn't yet comprehend. Who would want to hurt Martha, William, and Marcus? They were the kindest people I knew.

I pulled into our driveway and stopped short. A gleaming red sports car sat where my sedan usually parked, its paint job reflecting the afternoon sun like fresh blood.

Inside the house, Grady was mixing himself a drink, humming cheerfully.

"Nice car," I said, my voice deadly quiet.

"Isn't it beautiful?" He didn't even look up. "Iris deserves something special after all the emotional trauma your family drama caused her."

"My family drama?" The words came out strangled. "Your parents just died, Grady."

"And life goes on." He shrugged, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Iris was so upset about the whole situation, crying for hours. The least I could do was cheer her up."

I pulled out my phone and opened our banking app. The joint savings account—our entire life savings of fifty thousand dollars—showed a balance of zero.

"You spent our funeral money on a car for your mistress."

"Don't be so dramatic. It's an investment. And Iris isn't my mistress—she's the woman I should have married."

Something cold and sharp crystallized in my chest. "I need that money back. For your parents' funeral."

Grady laughed—actually laughed—and turned to face me with cruel amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Get over it, Selene. Move on. Death is expensive, but that's not my problem anymore." He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Here's to new beginnings."

I stared at this stranger wearing my husband's face, and realized that the man I'd loved and sacrificed for had never existed at all.