My father-in-law burned my six-month pregnant belly with his cigarette while my husband held my wrists—and his mother and sister sat at my New Year’s table watching. Then Grant ordered me out of “his house.” What none of them remembered was that the penthouse, the dinner, and almost every luxury they enjoyed had been paid for by me.

"Where did the corporate money go?" Vivian asked, stepping up beside me to look at the FBI file.

Hale flipped to the next page. "It was washed through three different LLCs. But the endpoint for a large chunk of it was real estate. A massive vacation property in Aspen."

I closed my eyes. The pieces were locking together in a horrifying picture.

"Grant," I whispered.

"Yes," Hale confirmed. "Used exclusively by Grant and Diane Bennett."

A broken laugh escaped my throat. Over Christmas, Grant had stood in my kitchen, drinking my wine, and bragging endlessly about a luxury cabin in Aspen. He claimed a wealthy business partner let him use it for free. He had even complained that the granite countertops weren't the right shade of grey.

He was complaining about a house he bought with money he stole from my employer, using my stolen identity.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated violently on the table.

An unknown number flashed on the screen.

Morales stepped forward. "Don't answer it."

But a dark, venomous anger had taken root in my chest. I swiped the screen and put the phone on speaker.

"Hello?" I said.

Silence. And then, the unmistakable gravelly voice of my father-in-law.

"You think you’re so clever, don't you, Claire?" Grant said.

Vivian immediately pulled out her phone and hit record.

"You called the police on your own husband," Grant sneered. "You humiliated this family over a simple misunderstanding."

"You burned my flesh, Grant. With a cigarette," I said, my voice ice cold.

"You were hysterical. You needed correction. My son was just trying to calm you down."

"Was he trying to calm me down when he forged my signature for an eight-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar credit line?"

The silence on the other end was absolute. It only lasted a second, but I heard the exact moment his arrogance cracked.

"What money?" Grant asked, feigning ignorance poorly.

"The money you used to buy the Aspen house, Grant. The money from Northstar Data Systems."

He drew in a sharp breath. "You really don't understand how the world works, Claire. You should be very careful throwing around accusations. Because sometimes, arrogant little girls discover they signed things they don’t remember."

"Like insurance paperwork?" I countered.

The line went dead.

Hale looked at me, impressed. "That was dangerous. But it confirms they know the walls are closing in."

Before anyone could speak again, my phone chimed with a text. Brooke.