Agent Bennett stood. “We need to relocate you temporarily.”

“I can’t leave her,” I sobbed. “She’s there—”

“You’re not abandoning her,” she said softly. “You’re surviving.”

I wiped my tears and straightened. “Then I want answers. All of them.”

She nodded and handed me a USB drive. “Your daughter recorded something the day before she died.”

I clutched it to my chest. “Then we listen.”

“Somewhere safe,” she replied.

As they led me out, grief hardened into resolve. Someone thought they could silence my daughter.

They were wrong.