Diana called at exactly nine the next morning.

"Thomas sent me his preliminary findings," she said.

"The money from the 4471 account was transferred in installments to two separate accounts.

One belongs to a property holding company.

The other is a personal account."

"Whose personal account?"

"Helga Bennett."

I was standing in the kitchen.

Julian had left for work an hour earlier.

The house was completely silent.

"His mother," I said.

"Yes.

It appears the funds were being used partly to purchase a property — a house, currently registered to the holding company, which lists Klaus Bennett as the sole director.

And partly as direct transfers to Helga's account, which Thomas believes were used to cover Sophie's living expenses."

I sat down.

"Julian has been paying Sophie's rent," I said.

"And more than that.

Medical bills.

A car payment.

Grocery deliveries.

All routed through his mother's account to keep his name off the transactions." Diana paused.

"Claire, the money came from the joint retirement account.

Your money.

Legally, half of every dollar in that account belongs to you."

"He used my money to support her."

"Yes."

I looked at the kitchen table.

At the chair where Julian sat every morning with his coffee.

At the ordinary, domestic surface of a life that had been quietly hollowed out from underneath me.

"Diana," I said.

"How do we proceed?"

"I'm filing for the emergency financial protection order today.

That freezes the joint assets and prevents any further transfers.

I'm also preparing the divorce petition." She paused.

"I need to ask you one more time — are you certain?"

"I've been certain since Sunday dinner," I said.

That evening, Julian came home carrying flowers.

Pink tulips.

My favorite.

He set them on the counter and kissed my temple.

"Rough week," he said.

"Thought these might help."

"They're beautiful," I said.

"Thank you."

We ate dinner.

He talked about a project at work.

I asked questions.

I listened.

I refilled his water glass.

After dinner, he got a phone call and stepped out onto the back porch to take it.

Through the glass, I could see him pacing slowly, one hand in his pocket.

He was on the call for eleven minutes.

When he came back inside, something had shifted in his face.

A tightness around the jaw.

A stillness that hadn't been there before.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Fine," he said.

"Just work."

He went to bed early.

I stayed downstairs and sent Diana a text: *He got a call tonight.

Seemed unsettled after.

Is there any chance he's been tipped off?*

Her reply came quickly: *Possible.

We're filing first thing tomorrow.

Don't let on.*

I turned off the kitchen light and stood in the dark for a moment.

The tulips were still on the counter.

Pink and perfect and completely wasted.

The next morning, I was already dressed and had my bag by the door when Julian came downstairs.

He stopped when he saw me.

"You're up early," he said.

"I have an appointment."

He poured his coffee slowly.

"What kind of appointment?"

"Just something I've been putting off," I said.

"I won't be long."

He looked at me over the rim of his mug.

Something was working behind his eyes.

"Claire," he said.

"Is everything alright?"

I looked at him directly.

"Why do you ask?"

"You've seemed distant this week."

"I've just had a lot on my mind."

He set his mug down and crossed his arms.

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

I picked up my bag.

"Not yet," I said.

"But soon."

I walked out the front door.

Behind me, I heard him set his mug down hard on the counter.

By the time I reached Diana's office, she had already received confirmation.

The emergency order had gone through.

The joint accounts were frozen.

Julian would find out within the hour when he tried to access them.

Diana looked at me across her desk.

"It's started," she said.

My phone rang before I could respond.

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