Three seconds of silence. When my brother finally spoke, there was no frantic shock, no useless pity. Ethan had spent his career taking apart mismanaged companies, and he’d learned to keep his voice level when everything in him wanted to move fast.

“Hold,” he said.

In the background I heard the rapid clack of a keyboard, then his voice, sharp, to his assistant: “Ready the plane. Call our medical contractor. And wake up the head of legal.

Now.”

He came back on the line, precise and quiet. “Pack nothing, Audrey. A private medical team will be at your back door at two a.m. — I’ll have the gate codes handled.

Just survive the next forty-eight hours.” A pause. “By the time the sun comes up Wednesday, you won’t be his wife anymore. And by the time it sets, every dollar he stole is going to be sitting in front of a federal prosecutor.