Three years of joint bank statements, property tax receipts, electric bills, and Daniel’s personal credit records lay in three neat rows.

Next to the pile, I put down a sealed white cashier’s check for twelve thousand four hundred dollars, drawn that morning from the private emergency account I had kept since before we married.

Frank put his glasses back on, straightened his blue tie, and picked up the top page of the mortgage ledger.

“You’ve brought me clean records,” Frank said, his low voice carrying no emotion at all.

“We can cut these financial ties before sundown today.”