“The signature was an exact pixel match to a scan of my signature on our marriage certificate.”

“No two hand-written signatures are ever identical to the pixel level.”

I saw one of the jurors, an older woman in the front row, nod slowly.

Margaret’s attorney leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

Margaret pulled her head back and scowled, her face turning a mottled red.

“Let’s talk about the night of November third,” Vance said, changing direction.

“Describe what happened when you confronted your husband and mother-in-law.”

“I came home early because I had discovered the final transfer attempt,” I said.

“It was for five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Where did the confrontation take place?”

“In the kitchen of the estate,” I said.

“Who was present?”

“Ethan and Margaret,” I replied.

“What did you say to them?”

“I told them I had blocked the transfer and contacted the bank’s compliance department,” I said.

“I told Ethan I was filing for divorce and that I was going to the police.”

“How did they react?” Vance asked.

“Ethan became angry,” I said. “He told me I was ruining the family.”