“The grand jury is convening tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice cracking. “They have the bank records from the Cayman accounts.”

“The ones you opened in my name?” I asked.

“I can explain that,” he said quickly, taking a shallow breath. “It was a tax strategy. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”

“You used my signature without my consent, Daniel.”

“I was trying to protect our assets.”

“You were trying to hide money from Clara’s husband before he died,” I said.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

The rain began to beat harder against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.

Far below, the yellow cabs on Michigan Avenue looked like tiny, glowing beetles crawling through the gray dusk.

The phone stopped ringing, leaving a heavy silence in the room.

Then, almost instantly, it began to ring again.

“She won’t stop,” Daniel said, staring at the flashing screen. “She knows they are coming for her too.”

“Why did she turn on you?” I asked.