I pulled it out, breaking the wax seal, and unfolded the heavy parchment paper. My breath caught in my throat. It was an active, fully executed life insurance policy. Specifically, it was a massive enhancement to my military spousal death benefit.
The policy had been taken out exactly three weeks before my scheduled return from deployment. The payout was a staggering five million dollars. I scanned the beneficiary line. It named Derek as the sole recipient.
My eyes darted to the coverage clauses. The policy explicitly covered accidental death, highlighting a specific rider that paid out immediately in the event of residential hazards, including carbon monoxide poisoning and accidental natural gas leaks. The video footage of Brittany pacing in my living room, asking if the gas leak would look like an accident, flashed through my mind. Derek was not just a financial fraudster and a medical manipulator.
Holding this policy in my hands solidified the terrifying reality that my husband was a calculating, cold blooded predator who had meticulously planned my planned death for money. I laid the five million dollar life insurance policy flat on the mahogany desk, illuminating it with my tactical flashlight so DeAndre could capture a high definition image for our federal prosecution packet. The digital scanner hummed quietly, cementing my husband’s impending destruction into an encrypted file. We had everything we needed to bury him in a federal penitentiary for the rest of his natural life.
Sięgnąłem, żeby schować polisę ubezpieczeniową z powrotem do czarnej koperty. Gdy tylko moje palce dotknęły grubego papieru, martwa cisza w gabinecie kierowniczym gwałtownie się rozerwała. Z panelu dostępu na korytarzu dobiegł głośny elektroniczny ćwierk. Ciężkie, matowe szklane drzwi biura otworzyły się szeroko.
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