The sudden movement caused a flare of pain, giving me a genuine reason to grimace.

“I need to get some air,” I said.

He shrugged, turning toward the kitchen.

“Don’t be late preparing dinner,” he muttered.

I did not answer him.

I grabbed my car keys from the counter and slipped out into the humid evening air.

The drive to Marisol’s office in downtown Miami felt like an eternity.

Heavy gray clouds hung low over the skyline, threatening a thunderstorm.

I parked in the underground garage of the high-rise and took the elevator to the twelfth floor.

Marisol was still at her desk, surrounded by stacks of legal folders.

She looked up, her sharp eyes immediately taking in my pale face and trembling hands.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the leather chair across from her.

“What happened?” she asked.

I pulled the folded document from my purse and laid it on her desk.

“I found this inside Derek’s suitcase,” I said.

She unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the text quickly.

Her jaw tightened as she reached the signature page.

“A two-million-dollar life insurance policy,” Marisol said.