My mother-in-law placed a gold bracelet on my husband's mistress at our divorce dinner, and his entire family applauded as if I had never belonged at their table. My husband smiled like a man who had already won, completely unaware that the gift on his mistress's wrist would turn his family's celebration into something he could never forget. But the most horrifying part wasn't watching another woman take my place—it was recognizing something they had no idea belonged to my dead mother.

Sheriff Miller picked up the gold bracelet with gloved hands, placing it safely inside a velvet evidence bag.

"Charlotte Whitaker," Sheriff Miller said, stepping toward my mother-in-law. "You are under arrest for receiving stolen property and grand larceny exceeding fifty thousand dollars."

"You can't arrest me!" Charlotte screamed as the deputy pulled her arms behind her back, the cold steel handcuffs clicking loudly over her diamond rings. "My family built this town! Grant, call our lawyers! Call the mayor!"

"I'm afraid your lawyer is going to be quite busy tonight, Mrs. Whitaker," Arthur Vance added smoothly, pulling a second set of documents from his briefcase. "Because while the Sheriff was on his way here, federal marshals executed a seizure warrant at the Beaufort cottage."

Grant froze. "The cottage?"

"Yes, Grant," I said, stepping closer to him until I could smell the stale wine on his breath. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice the deed transfer? Did you think I wouldn't track the shell company back to your mother's maiden name?"

Grant’s knees seemed to give out. He sank back into his chair, staring at me as if I were a stranger. "Ava... please. It was for the business. The company was drowning. I was going to pay it back once the new contract cleared—"

"There is no new contract, Grant," I said softly. "I spoke with your primary investor this morning. When I presented them with the forensic audit proving you had embezzled funds from my mother's trust to keep your firm afloat, they pulled their funding. As of 5:00 PM today, Whitaker Logistics is insolvent."

The room seemed to spin around Grant. His mother was being led out of the restaurant in handcuffs, sobbing hysterical threats to the police. Tiffany was frantically packing her designer purse, shouting at Grant that she was leaving him and taking a cab back to her apartment.

And Grant sat alone amidst the half-eaten dinners and melted candles, entirely stripped of his wealth, his reputation, and his freedom.