“We have the emails Celeste sent to Dr. Mercer’s private account,” I added.

Celeste finally looked up at me, her eyes dark with hatred.

“You’re going to destroy the firm,” she hissed. “For what? For her?”

“This firm was built on my father’s name,” I said. “Not my mother’s lies.”

The chairman of the board, an old friend of my father’s named Richard, cleared his throat.

“Celeste,” Richard said, his voice cold. “The board has voted. If you do not sign the dissolution agreement immediately, we will hand these files to the district attorney.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Celeste said. “The scandal would drop the stock thirty percent.”

“The stock will recover,” Richard said. “Your reputation will not.”

Arthur slid a three-page document across the polished wood.

It slid stop right in front of Celeste’s hands.

“A modest lump sum,” Arthur said. “No real estate. No ongoing alimony. No shares in Whitmore Holdings.”

Celeste stared at the paper.

“This is nothing,” she whispered. “This is barely enough to pay my legal fees.”

“It is more than you deserve,” I said.

She looked at her lawyer.