My husband forgot to end the video call, and more than thirty employees saw his assistant sitting on his lap with her blouse partly undone.

By noon, the financial news networks had picked up the story. Vance Global’s pre-market stock was down nine percent, and trading had been halted twice due to high volatility.

I sat in Julian’s office, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that had hung untouched in the back of my closet for five years. My hair was pulled back into a sleek, professional chignon. For the first time since Clara was born, the reflection in the mirror wasn't a tired, penny-pinching housewife terrified of the grocery bill. It was Mabel Bennett, the senior financial analyst who had once broken down multi-million-dollar municipal bond fraud before breakfast.

My phone rang. It was Selina.

I tapped speakerphone, and Julian signaled his junior partner to begin recording the line.

"Mabel?" Selina’s voice was high-pitched, brittle, and dripping with manic anxiety. "Mabel, we need to talk woman to woman right now."

"You have two minutes, Selina," I said coolly.

"You need to issue a statement," she demanded, her voice shaking with rage. "Flynn is in an executive crisis meeting, and the board is demanding someone take the fall! They’re talking about terminating my contract for ethics violations! If you go to the press and tell them this was a private misunderstanding—that we were working on an anniversary surprise for you or something—Flynn can smooth this over! You're destroying his career!"

I couldn't help the dry, incredulous laugh that escaped my lips. "An anniversary surprise? With your blouse open and my favorite necklace around your neck?"

"That necklace was a gift from an executive partner, not your husband!" she shrieked, doubling down on the fantasy. "You think you're so superior, don't you? Sitting at home in your sweatpants while Flynn and I built this empire! He came to my bed every week because you bored him, Mabel! You let yourself go! You became a domestic chore! If you ruin him, you ruin yourself! He will drag you through the courts until you're sleeping in your car!"

"Selina," I said, my tone as cold as an Arctic winter. "Take off the necklace. Pack your personal belongings from the thirty-two-hundred-dollar apartment my family’s money paid for. Because when I walk into that building in thirty minutes, you won't just be fired. You will be audited."

I ended the call before she could scream again.

Julian stood up, handing me a leather briefcase containing the certified trust documents and a formal notice of shareholder intervention.

"The emergency board meeting convened ten minutes ago on the fortieth floor," Julian said, adjusting his spectacles. "Flynn thinks he has the votes to survive by pinning the entire scandal on Selina and issuing a public apology. He has no idea you're coming."