Its invoices to the firm were suspiciously round numbers, repeated every month, frequently exceeding forty thousand dollars for vaguely described “operational logistics” that no one could quite explain.

I did not need a forensic accountant to tell me what that smelled like; I am a forensic accountant myself, though my in-laws had spent ten years treating my profession as a cute hobby.

It smelled exactly like what it was: money being pulled out of a company through fake vendor invoices, and washed, and brought home.

My husband was not a commercial director who had married into a difficult family.

My husband was running a fraud.