I saved the bank records as encrypted PDFs. I emailed the photograph of the lingerie and the security log to a secure, newly created address. Then I called Elias Thorne, the most ruthless family-law and financial-litigation attorney in the state.

I did not confront Damon when I went downstairs for the glass of water. I smiled, thanked him, and mentioned how tired the baby was making me.

Later that evening, my phone vibrated. A text from Claire.

How did the ultrasound go? I can’t wait to meet my beautiful goddaughter! Miss you!

I stared at the glowing screen, marveling at the sheer, unadulterated sociopathy required to send those words.

I typed my reply.