He thought I was useless because I always let him speak before I did.

What he never realized was that six months earlier, after uncovering his affair, his falsified signatures, his secret debts, and the shell corporation registered under Olivia’s brother’s name, I’d stopped acting like a wife and started gathering evidence.

Every financial statement. Every email exchange. Every hotel bill. Every drunken voice recording in which he bragged about “emptying Claire out before the divorce.”

By 10:00 p.m. the night before, all of it had reached my lawyer, my forensic accountant, and the FBI’s financial crimes division.

At 2:45 a.m., I sent a single response.

“Enjoy the airport.” Victor called at 3:06 a.m. I ignored it. Olivia tried at 3:09. Smiling, I poured his drugged tea into the sink and watched December’s first snowfall settle over the front yard.

By morning, Victor would discover that the passport he carried had become useless, that the accounts he’d raided were locked, and that the woman he dismissed as worthless had already authorized the warrant that would bring him down.