“I have a key,” I said.

“I have had one for a month.”

I walked over to the mahogany coffee table and laid the manila envelope down.

I slid the documents out of the sleeve.

“What is that?” Ethan asked.

He looked at the paper as if it were a snake.

“Your path to survival,” I said.

“The federal agents are at your office.”

“They will be here next.”

“If you sign this agreement, you transfer all marital assets to me.”

“The house, the secondary accounts, the remaining personal investments.”

“Why would I do that?” Ethan hissed.

“Because if you don’t, the government will seize them tomorrow morning,” I said.

“And you will have nothing to negotiate with.”

“If you sign them to me, they are protected under the pre-existing marital division.”

“I will pay for your defense attorney,” I added.

“A good one.”

“But only if you sign.”

Ethan stared at the documents.

His breathing was shallow and fast.

He looked at Lila, then at me.

He was trapped, and he knew it.

“And if I don’t?” he asked.