She pushed a manila envelope across the table toward me.

It was thick, stuffed with folded papers.

“What is this?” I asked, my hand resting on the smooth paper.

“Proof,” Melanie said.

She took a shaky breath and leaned forward.

“Lucas didn’t fire me because of my performance, Anne.”

I watched her face, the way her jaw clenched.

“Then why?” I asked.

“Because I said no to him,” she said.

She looked directly into my eyes.

“And once I did, he made sure I lost everything.”

I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the Denver winter.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She pointed to the envelope.

“Open it,” she said.

My fingers pried open the metal clasp.

I pulled out a stack of printouts.

They were credit card statements, lease agreements, and utility bills.

All of them had Melanie’s name printed at the top.

But the billing address was a PO Box in Palm Springs.

And the email address associated with the accounts was one I recognized instantly.

It was Lucas’s private Gmail account.