“They won’t let the loan sharks get to you, Daniel,” I said, walking back to my chair.

“You’ll be in protective custody by dinner. You’re going to federal prison for a very long time. But you’ll be alive. That’s more mercy than you planned for me.”

I picked up the landline and pressed a single button. “Marcus? Send the agents up to the boardroom, please. Mr. Carter is ready to leave.”

Daniel fell to his knees and wept, his head bowed against the carpet, a broken, ruined man. I didn’t feel pity.

I didn’t feel sadness. I just felt light. The suffocating weight I’d carried for ten years of a toxic marriage was finally gone.

Two minutes later the doors opened. Two men in dark windbreakers walked in, hauled Daniel to his feet, and read him his rights.