MY CHEATING HUSBAND LAUGHED IN COURT AND TOLD ME I WOULD NEVER TOUCH HIS MONEY AGAIN—UNTIL THE JUDGE OPENED MY SECRET ENVELOPE, LAUGHED OUT LOUD, AND FROZE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS ACCOUNTS!

Two weeks later, Daniel sat across from Rachel Monroe and me in a soundproof deposition room on the twenty-fourth floor of the legal center. A court reporter sat at the end of the table, her fingers poised above the steno machine, while a high-definition video camera recorded every twitch, blink, and stammer.

Daniel had brought a new attorney—Mitchell Crane having abruptly withdrawn from the case citing “irreconcilable professional differences” after discovering that Daniel had lied to him regarding the Nevis offshore accounts.

His new lawyer, a weary-looking veteran named Arthur Vance, looked like a man who had already advised his client to surrender and was merely waiting for the execution to finish.

Rachel placed a four-inch-thick stack of color-coded documents in the center of the table.

“Mr. Foster,” Rachel began, her voice crisp and clinical. “Let us turn to Exhibit 14-B. This is a certified transcript of an audio recording provided to this court by your former office manager, Sarah Jenkins. In this recording, you are heard instructing her to purge the 2023 development ledger. Is that your voice on the recording?”

Daniel looked at his lawyer. Arthur Vance stared straight ahead at the wall.

“I... I don't recall the specific conversation,” Daniel muttered.

“Let’s play the recording,” Rachel said calmly, reaching for her tablet.

“No!” Daniel snapped, his hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned chalk-white. “Fine. Yes. It’s my voice. But it was taken out of context. We were performing routine server maintenance.”

“Routine server maintenance that involved deleting records of a six-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar transfer to Aegis Horizon Ltd in Nevis?” Rachel continued relentlessly. “Let us turn to Exhibit 18: the beneficial ownership registry from the Nevis Financial Services Commission, bearing your personal signature and authenticated via your primary cellular recovery number.”

Daniel closed his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his temple, soaking into his collar.

“Mr. Foster,” Rachel asked, leaning forward. “Did you or did you not swear under oath on August 18th that no foreign assets existed in your name or under your control?”

For ten seconds, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic hum of the air conditioning unit.

Daniel looked across the table at me. His eyes were completely hollow, stripped of every illusion, every lie, and every ounce of arrogance that had defined him for twelve years.

“I refuse to answer on the grounds of the Fifth Amendment,” Daniel whispered.

“Louder for the record, please, Mr. Foster,” Rachel instructed.

“I refuse to answer on the advice of counsel,” Daniel said, his voice cracking completely.

Over the next four hours, Rachel systematically went through all eighty-two questions regarding the hidden bank accounts, the fake consulting fees to Brianna, the sham transfers to his mother, and the double-invoicing schemes.