I tossed it onto the center of the head table, right into the bowl of lilies.

“That is a certified copy of the federal ledger,” I said, looking directly at Victoria.

Her face paled slightly, though she kept her chin high.

“What is this nonsense?” Adelaide muttered, squinting at the folder.

“It is the record of the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands,” I said. “The ones you and Tyler used to sidetrack forty million dollars from the family trust.”

Tyler took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Natalie, shut up,” he hissed.

“And that’s not all,” I said, raising my voice. “The FBI has had that ledger for forty-eight hours.”

Heavy footsteps echoed on the stone tiles of the terrace before Tyler could speak.

Four men and two women in dark suits walked out from the main house.

The lead agent, a tall man with graying hair and a gold badge clipped to his belt, stepped onto the grass.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he announced, holding up his credentials.

The guests began to whisper, scraping their chairs back as they stood up to leave.

Victoria did not move. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white.

“There has been a mistake, Agent,” Victoria said, her voice dropping an octave. “My family has deep ties to the bureau.”

The lead agent ignored her and walked straight toward my husband.

“Step away from the table, sir,” the agent said.

“Look, officer, my name is Tyler Callahan,” Tyler said, his voice cracking slightly. “This is a domestic dispute. My wife is hysterical.”

The agent pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt.

“We are not here about a domestic dispute,” the agent said.

He looked at the man I had married, his eyes completely devoid of warmth.