He had told me, carefully, that he had heard Blake’s financial firm was in trouble, and he had urged me — more than once — to quietly audit our joint accounts, just to be safe.

And I had defended my husband.

I had told my own brother he was being paranoid, that Blake would never, that I trusted him completely.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles went white, and I looked at my daughter in the mirror, and I made her a promise that was also a promise to myself.

“We’re going to Uncle Ivan’s, baby,” I said.

“And then we are going to make very sure that Daddy and Aunt Danielle never play games in our house again.”