Forty-eight hours later, the forensic audit of that laptop unlocked a nightmare.

The drive held private emails between Bruno and an outside contractor, discussing inflated invoices, kickback percentages, and the return of offshore cash in physical bundles.

It held text threads with his father, Indigo, discussing a luxury SUV registered under a cousin’s name to hide it, and a down payment on an oceanfront condo.

Every suspicion the money trail had raised, the laptop confirmed in my husband’s own words.

He had not been dragged into anything.