They treated her like a helpless servant at seven in the morning, until federal agents and their estate attorney walked in to seize everything they owned.

By noon, the news of Caleb Whitmore’s arrest had exploded across every financial blog, local news channel, and high-society gossip column in South Carolina.

CHARLESTON MERCURY: LOGISTICS TYCOON ARRESTED AT DINNER TABLE IN MULTI-MILLION FRAUD SCHEME.

LOCAL AUDITOR UNMASKS HUSBAND'S SECRET CAYMAN ACCOUNTS.

I sat in the study of the historic battery mansion—the room where Caleb had spent six years pretending to run a legitimate business while drinking eighty-dollar scotch.

The heavy velvet curtains were drawn back, letting the brilliant Charleston sunshine flood the room. Marcus Vance sat across from my desk, reviewing stacks of property deeds, while two IT specialists swept Caleb’s private computer servers.

"We recovered the full secondary ledger, Nora," Marcus said, laying a printed document before me. "Caleb wasn't just stealing union funds. He was planning to flee to Saint Barthélemy with Chloe Vance next Friday."

"And the company?" I asked, looking through the window at the harbor.

"Whitmore Logistics is solvent, thanks to the trust freezing the remaining assets," Marcus replied. "The board of directors called an emergency meeting for two o'clock today. They want you to step in as Interim Chairwoman."

I smiled faintly. "They want the auditor who caught the thief to fix the books."

"They want someone who isn't going to prison," Marcus corrected warmly. "Your father would be immensely proud of you, Nora. You played a six-month game against a man who thought he was playing checkmate."

A soft knock sounded at the heavy oak door.

Detective Logan stepped into the study, holding a yellow manila folder.

"Mrs. Whitmore," Logan said.

"Call me Nora, Detective. I’m dropping the Whitmore name by Friday."

Logan smiled thinly. "Nora, then. We just finished processing Caleb at the county lockup. His bail hearing is set for tomorrow morning, but the federal prosecutor is requesting no bail due to flight risk."

"Has he called his lawyer?"

"He tried to call Chloe Vance five times," Logan revealed, pulling a paper from her folder. "She didn't answer. In fact, Miss Vance was picked up at the Atlanta airport an hour ago trying to board a flight to Nassau with two million dollars in bearer bonds."

I closed my eyes for a brief second, taking a deep breath.

Chloe Vance had been my friend before she became Caleb’s mistress. She had sat at my dinner table, drunk my wine, and complimented my home while helping Caleb plan my financial ruin.

"Did she speak?" I asked.

"She gave up Caleb in thirty seconds," Logan said plainly. "She swore under oath that the domestic violence against you was entirely Caleb's idea to keep you intimidated."

Logan stepped closer to the desk, her expression turning serious.

"Caleb left a message for you with the guard before they moved him to his cell," Logan added.

"What did he say?"

"He said you might have taken his business, but you'll never survive the trial. He said he has people in Charleston who owe him favors."

I stood up from behind the mahogany desk, buttoning the jacket of my dark navy suit.

"Tell Caleb I look forward to the trial," I said smoothly. "Because my father taught me one thing about favors in Charleston."