MY HUSBAND SLAPPED ME IN FRONT OF HIS MISTRESS AT HIS JEWELRY STORE—BUT WHEN I TOOK OFF MY WEDDING RING AND SAID, “MY LAWYER WILL TAKE HALF YOUR SHARES TOMORROW,” HE DROPPED TO HIS KNEES

My phone buzzed.

Nathan.

Then again.

Nathan.

Then Celeste.

I held the phone so Abigail could see.

“Don’t answer either one,” she said.

A fourth message arrived.

This one came from Margaret Mercer, Nathan’s mother.

EMMA, WHATEVER YOU THINK YOU SAW, DO NOT DESTROY YOUR HUSBAND OVER A MISUNDERSTANDING.

I read it twice.

Then I laughed.

It sounded so strange that Abigail looked at me.

“What?”

“I never told Margaret what happened.”

Abigail’s eyes sharpened.

“Then Nathan called her.”

“Within an hour of hitting me.”

“Not to apologize.”

“To build a witness.”

Abigail leaned back.

“He’s moving faster than I expected.”

I watched the city lights streak across the window.

“So do we.”

She nodded once.

“Where is the paper ledger?”

I looked at the driver.

He could not hear us through the partition.

I still lowered my voice.

“Safe deposit box.”

“Which bank?”

“It isn’t at a bank.”

Abigail frowned.

“Emma.”

“I moved it to my mother’s old storage unit in Lake Forest.”

“You still have that unit?”

“No one knows I do.”

“Then that is where we are going.”

I shook my head.

“Not yet.”

She waited.

I opened the location history on my phone.

Then I turned the screen toward her.

A small blue dot marked our house.

Another dot sat three blocks away.

Nathan’s phone.

He was home already.

“That was fast,” Abigail said.

“He thinks the ledger is there.”

“Then let him look.”

I almost smiled.

“He won’t just look.”

Twenty minutes later, my home security app sent an alert.

FRONT DOOR SENSOR DISCONNECTED.

Then another.

OFFICE CAMERA OFFLINE.

Then another.

MASTER BEDROOM CAMERA OFFLINE.

Abigail stared at the notifications.

“He’s killing the cameras.”

I opened the backup account Nathan did not know existed.

The feed loaded slowly.

Our study appeared.

Nathan stood behind the desk pulling open drawers.

Celeste was with him.

She was still wearing the champagne-pink dress.

I felt something colder than jealousy move through me.

Nathan had taken his mistress to our home less than an hour after assaulting me.

Celeste lifted a framed photograph of my mother from the shelf.

She turned it over.

Then she threw it onto the couch.

Nathan yanked open the false-bottom drawer beneath my stationery cabinet.

Empty.

His face twisted.

Celeste said something.

The backup camera had no audio.

Nathan slammed the drawer so hard the frame shook.

Then he pulled out his phone.

My phone rang three seconds later.

I let it ring.

A text appeared.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU STOLE.

I stared at the words.

I had stolen nothing.

Abigail saw my expression.

“What did he say?”

I showed her.

She read it once.

Then her entire posture changed.

“That is not a husband asking for a ledger.”

“No.”

“That is a man creating a written record that you committed theft.”

I looked back at the live feed.

Nathan walked out of frame.

Celeste remained.

She stood alone in my study for several seconds.

Then she did something I did not expect.

She reached into her silk purse.

She removed a small black flash drive.

She crossed to my computer.

And she plugged it in.