I simply set my wine glass on the table and adjusted the cuffs of my silk blazer.

The crowd parted like water as the detectives led Graham out of the ballroom.

Gloria followed them, sobbing and stumbling, her expensive heels clicking frantically on the marble floor.

No one in the room moved to help her.

“Shall I have the car brought around, ma’am?” Marcus asked quietly from behind me.

“Yes, Marcus,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

***

The next morning, the rain in Dallas was cold and relentless.

It beat against the glass of my office windows on the thirty-fourth floor of the downtown tower.

Arthur, my lead counsel, laid three thick blue folders on my desk.

“The district attorney didn’t waste any time,” Arthur said, taking a seat in the leather chair opposite me.

“Has bail been set?” I asked.

“The judge denied bail,” Arthur replied. “The secondary ledger showed he was preparing to wire his remaining liquid funds to an account in the Cayman Islands.”

I opened the top folder and looked at the forensic audit reports.

“He really thought he could slip away,” I murmured.