My husband moved to Germany for five years, but the woman he chose to take with him was not me.

The following evening, I was alone in my Chicago apartment—a three-bedroom penthouse in the Gold Coast that I had closed on three months earlier. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the ink-black expanse of Lake Michigan, dotted with the distant, blinking lights of passing freighters.

My private cell phone rang at eight-fifteen.

The number was an international Frankfurt line. I knew who it was before I picked it up.

"Hello, Rachel."

There was a ragged intake of breath on the other end, followed by the muffled sound of weeping. It wasn't the dignified, controlled weeping of someone facing consequence; it was the frantic, hyperventilating panic of a cornered animal.

"Nora," she sobbed, her voice cracking into high, shrill fragments. "Please. Please, don't do this to me. I’m begging you."

I walked to the kitchen island, poured myself a glass of sparkling water, and listened in silence.

"They came to the office this morning," Rachel gasped. "Two security guards and a German bailiff. They locked my computer, Nora! They took my company phone, my building pass, everything! They told me I’m being investigated by the commercial regulatory authority for certification fraud! I won't just be fired—I could lose my professional license! I won't ever be able to work in finance or consulting again, anywhere in Europe or the States!"

"The certifications you signed were fraudulent, Rachel," I said calmly. "Did you expect the German Federal Logistics Office to ignore thirty-two forged environmental clearances?"

"Daniel told me to sign them!" she screamed, the desperation turning into immediate, vicious betrayal. "He told me it was standard practice! He said everyone bypasses the secondary tier audits during initial client onboarding! He swore he would protect me if anything went wrong! Nora, you know Daniel—he manipulates people! He manipulated me!"

I smiled faintly into the darkness of my penthouse. "Fifteen years, Rachel."

The line fell abruptly silent.

"Fifteen years," I repeated, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "You lived in my dorm room. You held my hand when my father died. You stood beside me at the altar wearing a bridesmaid dress that I paid for, and you toasted our marriage with tears in your eyes. And then, the second my husband offered you a corner office and a business-class seat to Frankfurt, you stepped over my body without a single backward glance."

"Nora, I was in love with him!" she cried, abandoning all pretense of professional innocence. "I was in love with him since college, and he chose you! Can't you understand what that felt like? Watching you have the marriage, the house, the life I wanted? When he told me he wanted me to come with him to Germany, I thought... I thought it was finally my turn!"

"And how did that turn out for you, Rachel?"

A harsh, bitter sob escaped her lips. "He’s a coward. The second things started falling apart, he blamed me for everything. He spent our weekends in Frankfurt screaming at me in hotel rooms, telling me that I was useless, that my German wasn't good enough, that I was ruining his reputation. He doesn't love anyone, Nora! He doesn't love me, and he never loved you! He only loves what people can do for him!"

"I know," I said. "I figured that out four years ago at O’Hare Airport."

"Then help me!" Rachel pleaded, her voice dropping into a frantic, groveling whisper. "Please, Nora. For the sake of the fifteen years before that. Don't let them refer the certifications to the criminal prosecutor. You control Mercer Ridge’s restructuring team now. You can reclassify the audit as an administrative error. You can tell them it was an internal miscommunication! I have files, Nora. I have emails from Daniel showing he instructed me to bypass the compliance checks! I’ll give them all to you! I’ll testify against him in your divorce! I’ll give you everything you need to destroy him completely!"

I listened to the woman who had once been my sister in spirit, offering to skin her lover alive on the altar of her own self-preservation. It was vile, pathetic, and utterly predictable.

"I don't need your files, Rachel," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "Daniel signed the uncontested divorce decree and the corporate surrender three hours ago in Evelyn Cross’s office. He has already destroyed himself."

"Then what about me?" she whispered, terrified. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Pack your bags," I replied. "Use whatever personal savings you have left to hire a competent German defense attorney. And remember what Daniel told me before he left Chicago."

"What... what did he tell you?"

"'Try to stay within the budget,'" I quoted cleanly.