“The Securities and Exchange Commission is already looking at the Newport transit filings.”

“They have my signature on the dummy invoices, Carter.”

“Only your signature.”

She turned her head slowly, looking at me.

Her mascara had begun to smudge at the outer corners of her eyes.

“She did this,” Sloane said, pointing a shaking finger at me.

“Evelyn did this.”

“I did nothing but look at the public ledger, Sloane,” I said.

My voice was flat, devoid of the anger I had carried for months.

“You put your own name on those documents.”

“Because your husband told me to!” Sloane yelled.

She took two steps toward me, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“He said you were incompetent.”

“He said you were losing your mind after the baby was born.”

I felt a cold prickle at the back of my neck, but I kept my face still.

My hand remained in my cardigan pocket, my thumb pressing the side of the digital recorder.

“He lied to you, Sloane,” I said.

“He lies to everyone.”

Sloane stopped, her chest heaving.