That’s something the bank does on its own when it finds a forged authorization.

I just stopped standing between you and it.”

Lorraine made a small strangled sound.

“My tickets,” she whispered.

“My reservations, in Paris — ”

“Canceled,” I said, “and the deposits refunded to my private account, where the money came from in the first place.”

Camden looked as though the ground had gone soft under him.

The man who had thrown me out of my own kitchen twenty-four hours earlier stood on my porch and finally understood that the SUV, the club dues, the roof, and his mother’s photographs of Paris had all, every dollar of it, been funded by the woman he had spent seven years mistaking for something he owned.