Chapter 4

David's office smelled of coffee and old paper. The retired detective sat across from me, his weathered face serious as he slid a manila folder across the desk.

"You were right to be suspicious, Mrs. Mitchell," he said, his voice low and matter-of-fact. "Your husband has been busy."

I opened the folder with steady hands that belied the storm raging inside me. The first page contained bank statements—offshore accounts I'd never known existed. Cayman Islands. Switzerland. Singapore.

"How much?" I asked, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

"Close to two million," David replied. "All transferred gradually over the…