She wiped the rain from her forehead, her mascara already smudging into dark circles under her eyes.

“She’s trying to ruin us,” Trevor said, taking a step toward her. “She’s unstable, Kelsey.”

I stepped between them, holding the damp manila folder out like a shield.

“I have the bank records, Kelsey,” I said.

The rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof of her SUV, the engine idling with a low, wet rumble.

“Look at them,” I said, thrusting the folder toward her chest.

Kelsey didn’t take it at first.

She stared at the wet cardboard, her lips trembling.

“You’ve always hated him,” she whispered. “You’ve wanted to ruin this for us from the start.”

“This isn’t about me,” I said.

I grabbed her hand, forcing the cold paper into her fingers.

“Open it,” I said. “Look at the signatures on page four.”

Trevor made a move to grab the folder, but I blocked him, my elbow catching him hard in the chest.

He stumbled back, coughing, his feet splashing in a puddle.

“Kelsey, please,” Trevor gasped. “We can talk about this in the car.”