“You don’t understand how business works,” he hissed. “Those accounts were meant to be temporary.”

“I understand how fraud works,” I said. “And so does the district attorney.”

The doorbell rang, the chimes echoing through the high ceilings of the foyer.

Derek froze, his hand still resting on the table.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“Your parents,” I said. “They were invited for dinner, remember?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and panic.

“Cancel it,” he whispered. “Tell them you are sick.”

“I am not going to lie for you anymore, Derek,” I said.

I walked past him toward the front door, my dress whispering against my legs.

Through the frosted glass of the door, I could see two dark silhouettes standing on the porch.

The winter wind outside howled, rattling the glass panes.

I turned the lock and pulled the heavy door open.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, stood there, wrapped in a thick mink coat, her silver hair perfectly styled.

Beside her was Arthur, Derek’s father, wearing a heavy wool overcoat and carrying a leather briefcase.