Chapter 1 - The Boxes on the Lawn
The first box contained three suits that cost more than my assistant earned in a month.
The second held Mauro's collection of watches, each wrapped in the same tissue paper he used when giving me gifts bought with my own money.
By the sixth box, the movers had stopped asking whether I was certain.
I was certain.
What I was not certain about was why the security camera over the east hallway had gone dark at 11:43 the night my husband stole my card.
Veronica stood beside my kitchen island, studying the security report.
"The locksmith is almost finished," she said.
"And the boxes?"
"Documented, photographed, and stored with a bonded company, pending lawful collection."
I looked toward the driveway, where the transport van waited behind the iron gates.
"I don't want anyone claiming we destroyed a thing."
"They'll claim it anyway," she replied.
She pointed at the camera report.
"Tell me about this gap."
I told her I had never disconnected the hallway camera.
She made a note, then asked whether Mauro had access to the security administrator password.
Of course he had.
Two years ago, he had called it insulting that a husband should need permission to enter his own home.
I had given him a secondary login to stop another argument.
That login was supposed to allow him to view footage, not erase it.
"Someone used an administrator credential," Veronica said.
"Was it his?"
"We don't know yet."
At nine thirty, Patricia called from Colorado.
She was no longer yelling.
Her voice had acquired the smooth, dangerous quality she used with waiters she intended to humiliate.
"Rebecca, dear, we've had a misunderstanding."
"You threatened to throw me out of my own house."
"People say things when they're stressed."
"You said it three times."
She ignored that.
"Mauro is willing to forgive you if you pay the hotel bill and restore the card."
I stared at the old family photograph hanging above the fireplace.
Mauro had insisted that his parents appear in our holiday portrait, even though my grandfather's framed photograph had to be moved to make space.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," I said.
"You should think carefully about what happens to women who embarrass this family."
"Are you threatening me again?"
A man's voice whispered something near her phone.
Patricia hesitated.
"I'm telling you that certain things can be made public."
The call ended.
My chest tightened, not because I believed her, but because I knew exactly which rumor she meant.
Six months earlier, Mauro had accused me of moving company money into a secret account.
He had said it jokingly at a dinner attended by three investors.
The joke had not been funny.
Veronica watched my expression.
"What did she say?"
I repeated the conversation.
She stopped writing.
"Rebecca, we need to check the company accounts today."
"We've checked them."
"Check the accounts you don't know exist."
The doorbell rang.
On the monitor stood a courier holding a thick cream envelope.
The return address was my own company.
Inside was a notice announcing an emergency board meeting.
The date was tomorrow.
The stated purpose was to consider removing me as chief executive.
May you like
And at the bottom was Mauro's signature, beneath a title he had never held.
