Chapter 4

Manhattan was a blur of noise and exhaust. Audrey drove aimlessly, the windows down, the hot city air whipping her hair into a tangled mess. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't go back to that empty house in Connecticut.

Three hours later, she found herself on the Lower East Side. The Audi's gas gauge was hovering near empty, and her stomach was cramping with hunger. She hadn't eaten since the toast she had forced down at breakfast.

She parallel parked-badly-near a small, crowded coffee shop. She grabbed her purse and went inside, the bell over the door chiming cheerfully.

The smell of roasted beans and pastries hit her, making her stomach growl. She walked to the counter, opening her wallet. She had three credit cards. She pulled out the black Amex.

"Declined," the barista said, sliding the card back across the counter.

Audrey blinked. "That's impossible. Try again."

The barista sighed and swiped it again. "Nope. Do you have another one?"

Audrey handed over the Visa. Declined. The Mastercard. Declined.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. He had canceled the cards. All of them. She had exactly fourteen dollars in cash and a handful of change in the bottom of her purse.

"I'll just have a black coffee," she mumbled, counting out the crumpled bills.

"Four fifty," the barista said.

She handed over the money, her hands shaking. She took the steaming paper cup and turned around, looking for a seat. The place was packed. The only open spot was a small table in the corner, already occupied by a woman with a sharp bob and an even sharper suit.

Audrey hesitated. The woman looked up from her phone, her eyes narrowing as she took in Audrey's disheveled appearance.

"Audrey Vaughn?" The voice was cool, precise.

Audrey froze. She looked closer at the woman. The high cheekbones, the calculating eyes. "Paige?"

Paige Donovan. Her college roommate. The one who had spent their senior year tearing apart witnesses in mock trial. The one who had gone on to become the most feared divorce attorney in New York.

Paige stood up, her heels clicking on the tile floor. She didn't offer a hug. She just looked Audrey up and down, her gaze lingering on the grass stains on Audrey's skirt and the dark circles under her eyes.

"You look like hell," Paige said. She turned to the barista. "Two black coffees and two almond croissants. On my tab." She pointed at the empty chair across from her. "Sit."

Audrey sat. The exhaustion of the day crashed over her the moment her body hit the chair. She wrapped her hands around the warm coffee cup, trying to stop the trembling.

"How did you know it was me?" Audrey asked.

"I read the society pages," Paige said, sliding a croissant toward her. "And I just came from court. The gossip is already flying. 'Devonte Vaughn's crazy wife storms the country club.' Want to tell me your side?"

Audrey took a bite of the croissant. It tasted like cardboard, but she forced herself to swallow. "He has a secret life. A mistress named Carmen Hurley. He set up a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for her, and my son's name was on it. He's been lying about Leo for twenty-three years."

Paige didn't look shocked. She looked annoyed. "And you just found out today?"

"He gave me a fake Cartier watch for our anniversary," Audrey said, the words spilling out in a rush. "A fake. He replaced all my credit cards. He called me delusional in front of everyone."

Paige reached into her briefcase and pulled out a small, silver recording device. She set it on the table and pressed the red button. "Start from the beginning. Don't leave anything out."

Audrey stared at the recorder. "Why?"

"Because you're not going to cry about this, Audrey," Paige said, her voice hard. "You're going to use it. Every tear you've shed is a bullet. I'm going to load the gun. Now talk."

Audrey talked. She talked about the suit, the document, the locked drawer, Carmen's birthday as the code. She talked about the club, the confrontation, the broken phone. She talked about the adoption decree, the sickening realization that her husband had been living a double life.

When she mentioned the fake watch, Paige held up a hand. "Stop. The watch. Describe it."

Audrey described the shallow engraving, the missing serial number, the cheap clasp.

Paige leaned back, a grim smile on her face. "That's not just a cheap gift, Audrey. That's asset dissipation. It's a classic move. He's replacing your real jewelry with fakes, taking the real pieces, and selling them to fund his offshore accounts. It proves premeditation. He's been planning this for a long time."

Audrey felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "He said he'd leave me with nothing. He said the prenup was ironclad."

"Prenups are made to be broken," Paige said. "Especially when one party is hiding twenty million in assets and committing fraud. He's arrogant, Audrey. Arrogant people make mistakes."

Paige reached across the table and gripped Audrey's wrist. Her grip was strong, grounding. "You are not a discarded wife. You are a plaintiff. And I am going to bury him."

Audrey looked into Paige's fierce eyes and felt a spark of something she hadn't felt all day. Hope.

"What do I do?" Audrey asked.

Paige handed her a sleek black business card. "You go home. You don't say a word. You don't throw a plate. You smile, and you find every financial document in that house. Bank statements, tax returns, the trust paperwork. You photocopy everything. Can you do that?"

Audrey nodded. She could do that. She had been managing Devonte's household for twenty-five years; she knew where the filing cabinets were.

"Good," Paige said. "The game is on. Don't screw it up."