At seven the next morning, I came downstairs to find Victoria already in the kitchen.

She was not making breakfast.

She was standing at the counter with her phone in her hand, and when she heard me on the stairs, she turned in a way that was just slightly too fast.

"Good morning," I said.

"Julian is still sleeping," she said.

"That's fine." I moved to the coffee maker.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Elena." Her voice was different from the day before.

The smooth satisfaction was gone.

In its place was something tighter.

"I want to ask you something directly."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you come back yesterday?"

I poured my coffee.

"Because I'm married," I said.

"And I take that seriously."

"You left with your passport and a cashier's check."

"And I came back," I said.

"Because I thought Julian and I should talk."

She studied me.

Victoria Mercer was not a stupid woman.

I had understood that from the first moment I met her, eight months ago, when Julian had introduced us over dinner and she had spent the entire evening asking me questions that sounded like small talk and were not.

"My husband called me last night," she said.

"Robert."

I kept my expression neutral.

"He told me he spoke to you yesterday morning," she said.

"Before you came back."

"Did he."

"He told me he gave you a document."

I set my coffee cup down.

"Victoria," I said, "what exactly are you asking me?"

She stepped closer.

"I'm asking you to give it back.

Whatever he gave you.

It doesn't belong to you, and the information in it is — it's been taken out of context.

Robert is not well.

He has not been well for some time.

Anything he told you, anything he showed you —"

"Was fabricated?" I said.

"Was incomplete."

"I see."

"Elena." Her voice dropped.

"You seem like an intelligent woman.

You understand that there are situations where the smartest thing a person can do is step back.

Take what they have.

Walk away quietly." She paused.

"The check is yours.

We won't contest it.

You take the money, you go, the marriage is annulled quietly.

No one needs to know anything."

The offer sat between us.

In my left ear, I heard Claire's voice: *Perfect.

Let her finish.*

"And if I don't?" I said.

Victoria's expression didn't change.

But her hand tightened around her phone.

"Then things become complicated," she said.

"For everyone."

"Including the judge?" I said.

The color left her face.

The front door opened.

Two men in dark coats stepped into the hallway.

Behind them, Claire Ashworth.

Victoria turned.

She looked at Claire.

She looked at the men.

She looked back at me.

"Elena," she said, very quietly.

"What did you do?"

"I had breakfast," I said.

From upstairs, I heard Julian's voice: "Victoria?

Who's at the door?"

Claire walked past Victoria into the kitchen without looking at her.

"Mrs.

Mercer," she said to me, "thank you for your cooperation." She turned to Victoria.

"Ms.

Mercer, my name is Claire Ashworth.

I'm the senior review officer at Hargrove Capital.

I have some questions I'd like you to answer, and I'd strongly recommend you call your attorney before you do."

Julian appeared at the top of the stairs in a T-shirt, hair still flat from sleep.

He looked down at the hallway.

He looked at the two men.

He looked at me.

"What is this?" he said.

I picked up my coffee cup.

"The review found Meridian Crest," I said.

"All of it."

He gripped the stair railing.

"You —" He stopped.

Started again.

"You were supposed to help us."

"I know," I said.

"That's what I did."