Every dollar I spent, every person I spoke to, had been monitored and approved by him.

But Annika had spent the last six months building a cage out of his own financial records.

“Monica,” Derek said, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried a distinct, sharp edge. “We will discuss this in private.”

“We’ve had enough private discussions, darling,” I said.

Richard looked at the yellow envelope, his eyes lingering on the bold font of the law firm.

“Vance and Associates,” Richard read aloud, squinting slightly. “Isn’t that a family law practice, Derek?”

Derek’s posture went rigid.

His shoulders squared, the classic physical defense mechanism he used whenever he felt cornered in a boardroom.

“Annika Vance is an old friend of Monica’s family,” Derek lied smoothly, though his voice lacked its usual resonance. “She’s just helping us clear up some estate details.”

“She’s a divorce attorney, Derek,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a shocked hush.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Even the servers in the kitchen seemed to have stopped moving.

I looked at Derek, watching the panic finally break through his carefully constructed mask.