“The server logs have already been mirrored by a court-appointed receiver,” I said.

Derek stopped.

He turned his head slowly toward me, his mouth slightly open.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Annika filed the motion at noon,” I said.

“The receiver arrived at your office park thirty minutes ago with a digital forensics team.”

Derek’s phone, which was sitting next to his empty salad plate, suddenly began to vibrate.

The screen lit up, reflecting against the dark wood of the table.

The caller ID showed the name of his office manager, Marcus.

The phone buzzed against the wood, sliding a fraction of an inch with each vibration.

No one moved to answer it.

“You set me up,” Derek said.

His voice was cracked, the smooth, confident tone he used to command rooms completely gone.

“You did this to yourself when you decided to treat our marriage, and your business, as your personal piggy bank,” I said.

Richard looked at the vibrating phone, then at Derek.

“Do not come to the office tomorrow, Derek,” Richard said.

“Richard, you can’t do this,” Derek said. “We have the board meeting on Thursday.”