“I will wire you money under Nora’s name,” I said. “Do not use any of your cards again.”

Before Clara could answer, a second call beeped on my call waiting.

It was an unknown number, but I knew the prefix.

“Clara, stay put,” I said. “I have to take this. I will call you right back.”

I switched lines. “What do you want, Julian?”

“I want my wife back, Madeline,” Julian said, his tone perfectly conversational, as if we were discussing the weather.

“She isn’t yours to keep,” I said. “She’s a human being, not your property.”

“She is my wife, and she is currently violating a marital agreement,” he said.

“Without my financial support, Clara won’t last a week on her own.”

“I can support her,” I said.

Julian let out a soft, dry laugh that sent a chill down my spine.

“With what?” he asked. “The proceeds from your little bakery on Elm Street?”

I gripped the phone tighter. “Leave my business out of this.”

“I’m afraid it’s already involved,” Julian said.

“Your shop has some very serious structural and health code violations, Madeline.”