I gave a quiet laugh. “Of course he did.”

“We also found one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in cash inside Ms. Marsh’s carry-on. Along with several certified checks drawn from accounts linked to Langley Medical Logistics.”

Even then, the company’s name felt wrong in my mouth.

Langley Medical Logistics had begun inside my father’s Ohio garage, years before Victor understood anything about freight regulations. My father, Harold Whitaker, had built partnerships with hospitals across the Midwest.

I later expanded operations up the East Coast. Victor joined the business only after we married, bringing charisma, self-assurance, and almost no practical knowledge.

As the years passed, I let people believe he was the company’s driving force. It simplified things. Investors responded to his grand speeches. Clients trusted my quiet competence.