“Call the police, Vanessa,” I said.

“I can’t,” she wept. “He said if the police come, he’ll blame the missing company funds on me. He said we’ll both go down.”

“Did he mention the accounts?” I asked.

“He said the forensic auditors are looking at things they shouldn’t,” she whispered. “He keeps shouting about the old files from the development projects. The ones before the divorce started.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Those were the years I still had access to the books, before Daniel systematically locked me out of Mercer Development’s financial systems.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“He went back to the office,” she said. “He said he had to clean things up before they got the warrants. Please, you have to help me.”

“I can’t help you, Vanessa,” I said quietly. “You need to find a way to leave that house.”

“He has my keys,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m locked in.”

A sudden muffled crash sounded on her end of the line.

I heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps climbing a staircase.

“He’s back,” she whispered in pure terror.