My 4-year-old daughter pointed at my boss's ear and kept saying, "Daddy's there" — but my husband had passed away, so when I looked closer, I couldn't believe WHAT she was actually pointing at.

I spun around, stepping between the bed and the entrance, picking up the heavy steel crowbar from the floor.

Harold stood at the foot of the stairs. He was wearing an expensive cashmere coat, soaked across the shoulders from the rain. In his right hand, held with casual, practiced ease, was a sleek black semi-automatic pistol.

In his left ear, the bone-conduction device gleamed beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

“I must admit, Claire,” Harold said, his tone conversational, almost admiring. “I underestimated you. I knew you were intelligent—Mike always praised your sharp mind—but breaking into this bunker? Truly impressive.”

“You monster,” I spat, my knuckles white on the crowbar. “You kept your best friend in a cage like an animal!”

Harold’s expression darkened, the affable veneer peeling away to reveal a bitter, rancid hatred. “Best friend? Mike was an arrogant idealist! He wanted to release his neuro-inhibitor compounds at cost to public hospitals! Do you have any idea what this technology is worth on the private market? Hundreds of millions of dollars! And he sat in his garage like a saint, talking about ‘helping humanity’!”

“It was his life's work!” I yelled.

“And now it’s mine,” Harold countered, raising the gun, pointing the black barrel directly at my chest. “Or at least, it will be. Mike has been stubborn, but with you here, things become remarkably simple. He will unlock the remaining decryption partitions, or he will watch me put a bullet through your forehead.”

On the bed behind me, Mike let out a guttural, furious groan. “Leave her... Harold... take the code... let her go...”

“Oh, Mike,” Harold sighed, stepping forward. “You know I can’t do that. Claire broke into my property. A tragic home invasion during a storm. A grieving widow who lost her mind and attacked my private research annex. When the police arrive tomorrow, they’ll find Claire dead, and unfortunately, Mike’s body finally giving out to his ‘illness.’ It’s a tragedy, really. But Mia will be well cared for. I’ll make sure my trust fund raises her in luxury.”

Hearing my daughter’s name come out of his mouth ignited something feral inside me.

“You will never touch my daughter,” I whispered.