Evelyn scoffed, crossing her arms. “For what earthly reason? To write a tragic poem in your little diary?”

I shifted my gaze from the matriarch to my husband’s flushed, furious face.

“No,” I said softly. “For the deposition.”

I turned on my heel and walked out through the heavy oak doors into the glaring afternoon sun, long before either of them could comprehend the avalanche they’d just triggered.

But as the door clicked shut behind me, my phone vibrated in my clutch. A message from an unknown number.

He’s going to try and hide the Cayman accounts. Move faster.