“I’m alive,” I said. “That’s enough.”

The affair humiliated me, but it wasn’t why I left. Six months earlier I’d found massive irregularities in the company accounts — fake logistics contracts, shell corporations, funds routed through offshore accounts.

By the time I finished tracing it, I’d uncovered nearly ninety-four million dollars in fraud.

And Camila’s digital approvals were all over the transactions.

They weren’t only sleeping together. They were laundering money together. Julian meant to move the funds overseas, force a divorce, and leave me publicly humiliated while he built a new empire without me.

What he forgot is that betrayal doesn’t always make a woman emotional. Sometimes it makes her precise.