In front of Margaret and Paige, I pretended to be ashamed of how Gwen looked.

I criticized her appearance, ordered her back into the kitchen, and said that once the four hundred thousand came through, I might just file for divorce.

Every word scalded my throat on the way out. But the performance worked — they dropped their guard around me completely.

That afternoon my mother left her phone unlocked on top of the refrigerator. I tried Paige’s birthday as the passcode, and it opened.

I found investment accounts totaling seventy thousand dollars. Records of the transfers that bought my sister’s truck.

Mortgage payments made within days of each of my wire transfers. I photographed every screen.