Sloane Hayes Kept Track of Every Dollar Before Her Husband Ever Signed the Apex Account

“Gordon wants the binder by seven thirty.”

“Then we’re finished for tonight.” Arthur stacked the folders and lined up the edges.

“He has one more call to make before we meet.”

“Who’s he calling?”

“Get to bed, Sloane.”

I carried the laptop back out to the garage, but I didn’t open it.

I slept with the yellow pad on my nightstand.

At seven thirty the next morning, Gordon’s office smelled of printer toner and stale coffee.