Thirty-two weeks pregnant, I watched my husband walk into his family’s Christmas party with his mistress on his arm—and the $18,600 diamond necklace he’d secretly bought glittering around her neck.

I stared at the glowing screen. Daniel frowned, reaching for the phone.

“Don't answer it,” he warned. “It could be Matthias trying to trace our location through her phone.”

“If Matthias wanted to trace us, he wouldn't use his mistress,” I said, my intuition flaring. I picked up the phone and hit answer, putting it on speaker.

“Fiona?” I asked cautiously.

“Evelyn,” her voice came through the speaker, ragged, breathless, and laced with a terrifying edge of panic. “I left the estate right after you did. He… he’s completely lost his mind. He’s burning documents in the study. Thomas is calling in a private security firm to scrub the Hensley deal.”

“Why are you calling me?” I demanded.

“Because he lied to me too!” Fiona cried out. “I thought I was moving to London with the man I loved. I didn't know he was trying to poison a neighborhood! I’m his communications director; if this blows up, my name is on the press releases! I will go to prison for environmental fraud!”

“You are already an accessory, Fiona,” Mara said coldly, leaning toward the phone.

“I can give you proof!” Fiona pleaded desperately. “The environmental reports Dr. Ellison had are just copies. I have the digital master keys to Matthias’s private server. I have all his encrypted emails with the zoning board. I have the receipts for the bribes.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “She has the smoking gun.”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m at an all-night diner off Route 9,” Fiona said. “Bring a laptop. I’ll give you everything. Just… just promise you’ll tell the feds I cooperated.”

I looked at Daniel. He nodded slowly.