Just 14 hours after our wedding, my husband threw a grease-soaked rag in my face in front of his entire family and sneered,

Two weeks after the seizure of Vale Meridian.

The high-security visitation unit at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in downtown Chicago was an expanse of reinforced concrete, industrial disinfectant, and unyielding steel mesh.

I walked down the central corridor in an ivory wool trench coat, my heels clicking rhythmically against the sealed epoxy floor. The guard opened the door to Booth 4, stepping aside with professional deference.

On the other side of the three-inch ballistic glass sat Adrian Vale.

The transformation was absolute. The manicured hair had been shaved to an uneven buzz cut; the bespoke silk suits replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit stenciled with his federal inmate number. His skin was gray, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, his hands trembling as they rested on the metal shelf.

When he saw me sit down, he lunged for the telephone handset, his face pressing against the glass.

I picked up the receiver on my side, leaning back in my chair.

"Mara... thank God," he gasped, his voice cracking into frantic, desperate sobs. "You came... I knew you wouldn't leave me here! Talk to the prosecutor! Tell them I was coerced by my father! He made me sign those papers! He made my mother use the poison! I had nothing to do with Evelyn's death!"

I looked at him through the glass with the quiet, clinical detachment of an auditor inspecting a defaulted loan.

"Is that why you were spending her money in Las Vegas and buying yachts for your secretary, Adrian?"

Adrian choked, tears streaming down his face. "I made mistakes! I was weak! But you're my wife, Mara! You swore vows to me!"

I opened my leather folio and pressed an official, certified document flat against the glass:

CIRCUIT COURT OF COOK COUNTY – DECREE OF ABSOLUTE ANNULMENT Grounds: Criminal Fraud, Misrepresentation, and Intentional Concealment. Status: GRANTED WITH PREJUDICE.

"Our marriage was annulled forty-eight hours ago, Adrian," I said, my voice smooth and level. "On the legal record, we were never married. You have no spouse. You have no inheritance. And your family name has been struck from the corporate registry."

Adrian’s hands hit the glass with a dull thud. "What about my assets?! The sixty million in my personal accounts?!"

"Every cent was transferred into the Evelyn Vance Memorial Fund for Domestic Crime Restitution," I replied, standing up and sliding the decree back into my folio.

"And I have one final piece of news for you."

Adrian looked up, his eyes wild with terror. "What... what news?"

"I signed a five-year municipal contract this morning authorizing our maritime trust to provide custodial and logistics management for the Illinois Department of Corrections," I smiled faintly. "Your work assignment begins on Monday. You're assigned to the heavy maintenance crew at the federal penitentiary."

I leaned close to the glass, looking into his ruined eyes.

"Make sure you get on your knees and scrub the corners, Adrian.