“Eight days ago.”

Terminal. Boston. He had killed me off to an entire building, and he had done it before he ever came home to announce a promotion that did not exist.

I opened my mouth to ask how many people had been told, and what they had been told, and whether anyone had — and then I heard myself think, quite clearly, that isn’t going to help you, and I closed my mouth and asked about the accounts instead.

“Susan, I’m perfectly healthy,” I whispered, letting real tears of rage spill over. “He’s abandoned me. And this morning fifteen thousand dollars went to a jeweler on Peachtree — our joint account.

If he’d lie to this company about a fake deployment, I can’t imagine what else he’s touched here.”

Susan’s face went cold. She reached for her phone. “Fabricating leave to defraud the company is serious. I’m ordering a full forensic audit of every corporate account Everett has ever had access to — starting now.”