Tiffany appeared at my office one afternoon in a cream-colored suit, furious that security had taken her visitor badge.

“You’re destroying a business over a woman’s lies,” she said from across the reception desk.

“I’m reviewing evidence.”

“Evidence you paid a disgruntled investigator to produce.”

“I didn’t pay him.”

“Exactly,” she said, then caught herself.

I watched her face change.

“I meant—”