I caught my husband lying to me in real time.

By 4:00 PM, the shockwaves had reached the upper echelons of Dallas society.

I was sitting in a quiet, sunlit corner booth at a café three miles from my house, sipping a cup of black coffee and reviewing the financial spreadsheets I had downloaded from Jack’s computer, when my phone screen flashed with a call from an unknown number.

I let it ring twice before swiping to answer.

"Megan!"

Carol Walker’s voice didn't sound like the haughty, untouchable matriarch of Preston Hollow anymore. It sounded shrill, panicked, and cracked with sheer disbelief.

"Carol," I said, my tone flat and conversational. "How is the airport treating you? Did you miss your flight to Cabo?"

"Don't you play games with me, you ungrateful little bitch!" Carol shrieked, the thin veneer of her upper-class manners evaporating instantly. "The police—well, not police, some terrifying men in suits—just stopped us at the boarding gate! They took Jack’s passport, they took Ashley’s passport, and my credit card just got declined at the Gucci boutique while I was trying to buy travel accessories! What have you done?!"

I took a slow sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch for three agonizing seconds before replying.

"I haven't done anything, Carol," I said smoothly. "I'm just sitting here enjoying a quiet afternoon coffee. If your credit cards are declining, maybe you should talk to your son. After all, he’s the brilliant surgeon. Surely he can afford a cup of coffee."

"My son is currently being detained in a private airport security office while federal marshals question him about corporate tax fraud and embezzlement!" Carol screamed, sobbing openly now. "Do you have any idea who we are? Do you know what this is going to do to our standing in the community? The country club gala is next week! How are we supposed to show our faces?!"

"I suggest you wear very large sunglasses," I advised coolly. "Worked wonders for you at the airport."

"Megan, please," Carol’s tone abruptly shifted from rage to desperate, pathetic pleading. "You've always been so reasonable. You've always taken care of us. Whatever Jack did—if he made a mistake, if he got mixed up with that silly blonde girl—we can talk about it! We can go to counseling! Just call your lawyers and make this go away. Tell them it was a misunderstanding!"

"A misunderstanding," I repeated softly. "Like the misunderstanding where you helped him plan a family vacation and intentionally left out the woman who paid off your mortgage three years ago?"

Silence descended on the line. Heavy, guilty, suffocating silence.

"So you knew," I whispered. "Every single one of you knew."

"Megan, listen to me—"

"No, Carol, you listen to me," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a register so cold and sharp it made the hairs on my arms stand up. "For ten years, I treated you like a mother. I took your insults, I swallowed your condescension, and I cleaned up your family's messes because I thought loyalty meant something. But loyalty is for people with integrity. You are all just parasites feeding off a host you thought was too weak to fight back."

"You can't do this to us!" Carol shrieked, her panic returning full force. "We are the Walkers! You're nothing without us! You're just a nobody from nowhere!"

"You're right about one thing, Carol," I said quietly. "I'm nobody's victim anymore."

I tapped the red button, ending the call, and blocked her number permanently.

I looked out the café window at the gray afternoon sky. The rain was beginning to fall again, slicking the pavement outside. Across the street, a billboard advertising the Walker-Ross Medical Practice towered over the intersection, featuring Jack’s impossibly white, photoshopped smile looking down benevolently at the passing traffic.