I PULLED MY DEAD MOTHER’S NECKLACE OFF MY MAFIA HUSBAND’S MISTRESS—THEN OUR HOUSEKEEPER REVEALED SOMETHING HE WAS DESPERATE TO HIDE

Dorian refused to let me attend the meeting alone.

I refused to let him decide what happened next.

We compromised by arranging for a detective I trusted to wait nearby, with instructions to intervene only if someone was in immediate danger. Dorian hated the arrangement, but for once he accepted that his opinion wasn't the final word.

That night, I examined the ledger in the guest room of a hotel outside Providence.

The pages revealed a network of shell companies, fraudulent transfers, and payments to officials. But the most disturbing entries concerned a charitable foundation established in my mother's name after her death.

I had believed the foundation was funded by donations from Dorian's family.

The ledger suggested otherwise.

Millions had passed through its accounts, but only a fraction had reached the people it claimed to help.

The rest had been transferred to a company called Northstar Holdings.

Its registered director was Margaret Hale.

I called the housekeeper.

She answered after several rings.

"Mrs. Kincaid?"

"Where are you?"

"I can't tell you."

"Your name is all over the ledger."

A long silence followed.

Then Margaret whispered, "I was paid to move money. I didn't know where it came from at first. When I discovered the truth, Victor threatened my grandson."

"Did you help him hide the money?"

"I helped hide the documents. I thought I could use them to protect the people Victor was hurting."

"Did you know my mother would die?"

"No!" Her voice broke. "I swear to you, I didn't know he would hurt her."

I wanted to believe her.

But trust had become a luxury I could no longer afford.

"Where is Blythe?"

"She's with me."

"Is she safe?"

"For now."

Margaret hesitated.

"There's something else. Your mother wasn't the only person who discovered the fraud. Someone else found the records years later and continued the transfers after Victor died."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But that person has access to the Kincaid accounts."

I ended the call and examined the final pages.

A series of payments had been authorized using Dorian's private signature.

The most recent transfer was dated three days earlier.

I took photographs of every page and sent them to the detective.

Then I discovered a folded document tucked into the back cover.

It was a copy of my father's original will.

The signature was unmistakable.

My father had left his business interests to me, placing the assets in trust until I turned thirty-five.

I was thirty-six.

The trust should have become mine a year earlier.

Instead, the document showed that the assets had been transferred to a company controlled by the Kincaids.

A handwritten note appeared beneath the signature.

Beneficiary must remain unaware until all claims are settled.

I stared at the words.

Someone had deliberately kept me from inheriting my father's company.

And someone had continued doing so even after Victor's death.

My phone rang.

Dorian.

"Audra, listen carefully. My accountants found an unauthorized transfer from one of the old holding companies. The signature is mine, but I didn't authorize it."

I closed my eyes.

"Someone has been using your identity."

"Yes."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

I looked at the ledger.