Cleo Vandergelt spread it across the table for me that night — forged emails, counterfeit board resolutions, an investigator’s recordings, messages between Konstantin and Astrid.

One of them read: Once she signs, we control the shares.

After that, she can be replaced. Another came with photographs of a woman named Greta Bexley, wearing jewelry that had gone missing from my apartment, in Konstantin’s.

After that, she can be replaced. I read that line several times.

Not divorced.

Not left. Replaced — as one replaces a component that has served its function, a word for objects and not for people.