My husband had been sleeping with his secretary in the back seat of his car.

Diana Reeves had an office on the fourteenth floor of a building downtown, with a view of the river and a desk so clean it made me feel like I was the first person who had ever sat across from it with a problem this complicated.

She was in her late fifties, with reading glasses pushed up into silver hair and the kind of stillness that comes from having heard everything at least twice before.

She didn't react when I laid out the folder.

She didn't react to the photograph.

She simply read, and listened, and occasionally made a small note on a yellow legal pad.

When I finished, she set her pen down.

"How much do you know about the company's current financial structure?" she asked.

"I built it," I said.

"I did the books for the first eleven years.

I know every account, every contract, every line of credit we ever opened."

"And in the last year, since he pushed you out of day-to-day operations?"

"Less.

But I'm still a co-owner of record.

My name is on the founding documents."

Diana nodded slowly.

"That matters.

A great deal." She picked up the photograph.

"The child in this picture — if he is your husband's biological son, that changes the asset picture significantly.

Depending on what Mark has promised this woman, or what legal arrangements he may have made without your knowledge, there could be claims against the company."

I hadn't thought of that.

I sat with it for a moment.

"He could have promised her part of Crestview," I said.

"It's possible.

Or he may have been siphoning funds to build a separate asset base in her name, or the child's name, that he intended to formalize after a divorce." She looked at me steadily.

"Has he mentioned divorce?"

"No.

He's been pushing me out of the company quietly, moving his mother into our home to make my life uncomfortable, and apparently maintaining a second family in another state.

He hasn't said a word about divorce."

"Which suggests he wasn't ready to trigger one yet.

He needed more time to move assets." She made another note.

"Laura, I want to file for a forensic accounting review of Crestview Developments immediately.

Before he knows you've been to see me.

Before he has any reason to start moving things."

"How quickly can that happen?"

"If you sign the authorization today, I can have a forensic accountant on the records by Thursday.

Your co-ownership status gives us the legal standing to demand full access." She paused.

"But I need to ask you something directly.

Is there any chance Mark has already begun transferring ownership of your share?"

I thought about the quarterly report he'd asked me not to distribute.

The client account moved to a new bank.

"I don't know," I said.

"I think I need to find out before Thursday."

Diana looked at me for a moment.

"You're very calm."

"I was calm when I found the underwear too," I said.

"I find it's more useful."

Something shifted at the corner of her mouth.

Not quite a smile.

"All right.

Here's what we do today."

She walked me through it methodically.

The authorization for forensic accounting.

A formal letter to the company's bank placing a hold on any new transfers above a threshold amount, pending review.

A preservation order for all digital records.

And a private investigator — someone Diana had worked with before — to identify Margaret Coles and establish the full picture of what Mark had built in Phoenix.

I signed everything she put in front of me.

When I stood to leave, Diana walked me to the door.

"One more thing," she said.

"Go home tonight and behave normally.

Don't confront him.

Don't let him know anything has changed.

The next seventy-two hours matter more than the next seventy-two months."

"I understand."

"And Laura — keep that folder somewhere he can't access it."

"It's already locked away."

She nodded.

"Good."