THE NURSE TOLD ME MY HUSBAND'S WIFE AND SON WERE ALREADY WITH HIM. I HAD BEEN HIS WIFE FOR SEVEN YEARS.

Six months later.

The heavy iron doors of the Hennepin County Courthouse opened, and Alistair Finch stepped out onto the granite steps, surrounded by a horde of local news reporters and flashing cameras.

He was no longer wearing custom Italian suits. He was wearing a plain dark grey suit bought off the rack, his head bowed as his attorney shielded him from the microphones thrust into his face.

"Mr. Finch! Do you have any comment on your sentence?"

"Mr. Finch! How do you feel about your ex-wife liquidating Finch Synergy?"

"Is it true Paige Miller testified against you?"

Alistair said nothing. He couldn't.

Inside the courtroom just thirty minutes ago, the federal judge had delivered the final verdict. For grand larceny, corporate tax evasion, and mortgage fraud, Alistair Finch was sentenced to thirty-six months in federal prison, followed by three years of supervised release, and ordered to pay $3.8 million in restitution.

Standing near the marble pillars at the top of the courthouse steps, watching the media circus below, was Martha and George Finch.

Martha looked broken. To pay for Alistair's initial legal defense, they had been forced to sell their country club home and downsize into a small two-bedroom apartment. Paige had completely cut ties with them, moving back to her hometown in Iowa with little Matty, leaving Martha with no son, no money, and no grandson to visit.

Martha saw me standing by the pillar. She walked over, her frame trembling with bitter rage.

"You satisfied now, Jacqueline?" Martha hissed, her voice trembling with hatred. "You destroyed my family. You put my son in prison. You ruined our lives!"

I turned to look at her, my expression calm, unbothered, and entirely free of guilt.

"I didn't put your son in prison, Martha," I said softly. "His own greed, arrogance, and criminal choices put him there. You just encouraged him because you thought you could benefit from his lies."

"He loved you once!" she yelled, attracting the attention of several onlookers.

"No, he didn't," I replied smoothly. "He loved what I could do for him. And you loved having a daughter-in-law who paid the bills until you thought you found a younger model you could control."

I adjusted my sunglasses, looking down at her.

"Goodbye, Martha. Enjoy your new apartment."

I turned and walked down the steps, leaving her screaming behind me.

Before leaving the courthouse grounds, I made one final stop.

I walked into the attorney-client holding area, where Alistair was waiting to be processed for transport to the federal correctional facility.

Sitting behind the thick glass partition, Alistair looked up as I walked in. He picked up the plastic telephone receiver. I picked up mine.

"You came to gloat?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"No," I replied through the receiver. "I came to give you these."

I pressed a single piece of paper against the glass.

It was the final Decree of Dissolution of Marriage, stamped with the official seal of the State of Minnesota.

I was officially Jacqueline Ross again.

Alistair looked at the paper, then up at my face. "Jacqueline... please. Thirty-six months... I won't survive in there. Isn't there anything you can do? Can't your firm file an appeal on the restitution order?"

I looked at him, feeling no anger, no hatred—only a vast, clean emptiness.

"You told Paige on that dashcam recording that I was just a tool to solve your problems, Alistair," I said softly. "You were right about one thing. I am very good at solving problems."

I leaned closer to the glass.