Regina was scheduled to spend the night in a luxury Chicago hotel, with room service comped. But now, she was driving through a blizzard, her headlights barely slicing through the cotton-thick fog.

Regina was scheduled to spend the night in a luxury Chicago hotel, with room service comped. But now, she was driving through a blizzard, her headlights barely slicing through the cotton-thick fog.

Her body trembled—not just from cold, but from shock. Less than an hour ago, she had escaped an attempted assault. Her core felt shattered, like glass.

The road grew more treacherous by the minute. Regina swerved to avoid drifting over the center line on a narrow two-lane highway. A moment later, her Mercedes slammed into the front of another car—also a Mercedes—coming too fast for the weather.

She skidded to a stop, facing the wrong way. Paralyzed, she sat frozen. Then, wrapped in her heavy black faux coat, she stepped into the snow.

The other car lay in a ditch, tail lights still glowing. Its front end was crushed. Regina saw the driver—a well-groomed white woman in her seventies—slumped against the airbags, neck at an impossible angle. Dead on impact.

Regina wiped her footprints from the snow, just as she had wiped away traces of the assault earlier. She wasn’t sure if the crash was her fault. But she was certain the law wouldn’t care. The man who tried to rape her—a powerful CEO—would make sure of that.

Back in her car, Regina reached for her phone. But headlights appeared. She panicked, turned off her lights, made a U-turn, and sped off.

The next morning, she didn’t call the police. News broke: a fatal hit-and-run. The victim was the daughter of one of Illinois’ most powerful families. Authorities promised to use every resource to find the other driver. Cell tower pings would catch her. But she had time. A day, maybe two.

Regina worked for a top Chicago marketing firm. Her newest client: a hotel and casino empire tied to her attacker. A whistleblower had given her evidence of a network of powerful men exploiting women—and silencing them. She began recording a confession: about the crash, and everything else.

But when she refused to destroy entire families in her exposé, the source turned on her. He tipped off the victim’s husban

he husband found her hidden car. He broke into her house and held her at gunpoint. She begged for time to send her evidence to the media. He let her. Then, still holding the gun, he made her get in the passenger seat of her car.

They drove to the same stretch of highway.

He didn’t slow down.

Neither of them survived.

Neither of them wanted to.