I opened the pantry, but not for noodles. Hidden behind a flour tin was a small black case containing printed bank records, photographs, a flash drive, and copies of documents notarized that morning.
My hands were steady.
For months, Daniel had dismissed my concerns. Gloria had moved money from my business through fraudulent invoices. Vanessa had used my credit card to finance luxury weekends. Worst of all, Daniel had been involved with my former assistant, a woman careless enough to send intimate messages from a tablet connected to our home network.
They had not simply betrayed me.
They had built a case against themselves.
From the dining room, Daniel shouted, “How long does it take to boil water?”
“Twenty minutes,” I called back.
He laughed again.
I opened the security application on my phone. Every camera in the house was recording. Every voice was clear. Outside, two unmarked cars were parked beyond the gate, waiting for my signal.
