“Do not promise anything verbally that binds us completely,” Arthur warned. “But tell her we can draft a conditional covenant not to sue.”

“What does that mean for her?” I asked.

“It means if she provides full, truthful cooperation and hands over the physical evidence, we will exclude her from the civil complaint,” he said.

“Can you send me something in writing?” I asked. “Something I can show her on my phone?”

“Give me five minutes,” Arthur said. “I will email you a preliminary letter of intent.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” I said.

“Be careful, Emily,” he added. “Daniel is cornered. People do unpredictable things when they are cornered.”

He hung up.

I drove down the steep hill toward the commercial district.

The streetlights cast long, shivering yellow reflections on the wet pavement.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

I was angry, but beneath the anger, I felt a cold, clear focus.

For months, I had been the victim of Daniel’s lies.

I had watched him siphon away my inheritance, believing he was building a future for us.