“And what about me?” I asked. “I signed those joint tax returns back then.”

“We will file for Innocent Spouse Relief immediately,” Robert said.

“You had no access to those off-site ledgers, and we can prove he locked you out of the financial software.”

“But Daniel is in severe trouble,” he added.

“Does his attorney know we have these documents?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Robert said. “We only verified the signatures an hour ago.”

“But Daniel’s accountant must know the storm is coming.”

“He’s probably already alerted Daniel that we requested those specific archive boxes.”

I sat back down at the kitchen table, the wood cold against my thighs.

The screen of my laptop glowed in the dark room, casting blue light across the table.

“He will panic,” I said.

“He’s already panicking,” Robert replied.

“My office phone has been ringing since six o’clock this evening.”

“Not from Daniel’s lawyer,” he added.

“Then who?” I asked.

“Patricia,” Robert said.

My stomach tightened at the mention of my former mother-in-law’s name.

“She called my receptionist three times trying to schedule an emergency meeting,” Robert said.