“Eat Our Leftovers,” My Sister-in-Law Sneered Before Throwing Scalding Soup in My Face While My Mother-in-Law Laughed—So I Slapped Her, Made One Phone Call, and Said, “Let’s See Who Sleeps on the Street Tonight”...

I was sitting in my favorite armchair, reviewing the severance packages for the executives I was firing from Grant’s old company, when my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

Morgan, please. It's Brooke. I am so sorry. I’ll do anything. Please don't send me to jail. Meet me for coffee? I can explain.

I stared at the text.

The arrogance had evaporated, leaving only pathetic, groveling fear.

I typed a quick reply.

I don't drink coffee with thieves. Friday.

I blocked the number and tossed the phone onto the desk.

My attorney, Natalie, was sitting across from me, sipping sparkling water.

"They are beginning to panic," Natalie noted, adjusting her glasses. "Are you truly going to let them walk away from a half-million-dollar theft just to get Grant to sign the divorce papers?"

I leaned back in the chair, a slow, cold smile spreading across my lips.

"Natalie, did I ever explicitly say I wouldn't press charges?"

Natalie frowned, reviewing her notes. "You told Grant that if he signed the papers, you wouldn't hand the files to the FBI."

"Exactly," I said. "I won't hand them to the FBI."

Natalie’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. "You already gave them to the State Police."

"The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation," I corrected smoothly. "They handle localized corporate embezzlement perfectly well. Grant signs the papers on Friday, and on Monday, state troopers will arrest his mother and sister for wire fraud."