“They will still investigate the business,” Richard said.

“They will,” I admitted.

“But they do not have the specific records of your banking fraud from nine years ago unless I give them the keys.”

He looked up, his eyes searching my face for any sign of hesitation.

He found none.

I had spent three months preparing for this moment, sitting alone in my apartment while Daniel was with Sophia.

I had memorized every date, every transaction, and every lie.

“If I agree to your terms,” Richard said slowly, “what happens to the house?”

He looked around the oak-paneled study, at the built-in bookshelves and the oil paintings of his ancestors.

This house had been in the Carter family for three generations.

“The house is marital property,” I said.

“And Daniel used my personal inheritance to pay off the remaining mortgage last year.”

“We can work something out,” Richard said, his voice dropping to a negotiator’s register.

He leaned forward, his hands clasping together on the desk.

“We can buy you out. I can wire you the cash value of your share by tomorrow morning.”