“Harrison lies,” I said.

“I know that now,” she said.

She took another step toward me, her hands reaching out slightly before she dropped them to her sides.

“He’s going to leave me with nothing, Vivian.”

“He’s going to let me take the fall for the dress while he takes your money and runs.”

I watched her closely, searching for any sign of Harrison’s coaching.

But the terror in her eyes was genuine.

She was a woman who had realized too late that she was merely a prop in another person’s game.

“What do you want, Sloane?” I asked.

She looked at the iPad screen, then at the spousal transfer documents in my hands.

“I know how he operates,” she said.

“He keeps all his financial details on a secure server.”

“The passwords are changed every week, generated by an encrypted app on his phone.”

My heart gave a sharp thud against my ribs.

“You have his passwords?” I asked.

“I know the master key,” she said.

“I watched him type it in when we were in Paris last month.”

“He thinks I don’t pay attention to those things.”