“You remember that?”
“I remember every lie.”
I opened another section of the folder.
“This.”
I slid a printed bank statement toward him.
“March.”
Another.
“April.”
Another.
“May.”
Then June.
Then July.
Then August.
Every page had one thing in common.
Cash withdrawals.
Large ones.
Two thousand dollars.
Three thousand.
Five thousand.
Seven thousand.
Always just below the amount that would automatically trigger extra verification.
I watched his expression change.
He recognized the statements immediately.
“Where did you get those?”
“Our attorney subpoenaed the records yesterday.”
He stared at the papers.
“You hired a lawyer that fast?”
“No.”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“I hired her six months ago.”
That got his attention.
“What?”
“I didn’t know about Madison.”
His breathing slowed.
“But I knew something wasn’t right.”
He said nothing.
“I noticed the missing money.”
“I can explain—”
“I noticed you stopped depositing your bonuses.”
He swallowed.
“I noticed new accounts I couldn’t see.”
His face lost even more color.
“And then…”
I pulled out one final document.
“I noticed this.”
His eyes widened.
“No…”
It was a copy of paperwork from a bank in Nevada.
An account opened eighteen months earlier.
His name was on it.
And another name.
Not mine.
Not Madison’s.
Someone else’s.
I watched panic spread across his face.
“Where did you get that?”
“I told you.”
“Our attorney.”
He stood so quickly the chair behind him tipped over.
“You had no right.”
“No right?”
“You invaded my privacy.”
I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You used my money to fund your affair.”
“You searched through my accounts!”
“Our accounts.”
“They’re not the same thing!”
“No.”
I nodded.
“They’re not.”
The room fell silent again.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me ever since my lawyer called.
“Who is Olivia?”
His head snapped upward.
“What?”
“The woman whose name is on your hidden account.”
“I…”
“Who is Olivia Brooks?”
He froze.
His entire body became perfectly still.
“You know her full name.”
“My attorney does.”
He looked genuinely shaken now.
“This isn’t about Madison.”
“No.”
I folded my hands together.
“It isn’t.”
Because once the investigation had begun, Madison had become the smallest problem.
My attorney had uncovered something much darker.
Over the past eighteen months…
