Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
James let out a low, dry chuckle that sounded like gravel shifting. “You want to walk him right into Margret’s office while he thinks he is about to collect five million dollars.”
“Yes,” I said, my fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. “And I want Monica there too. I want them both in the room when the door is locked.”
“It is a bold move,” James said, reaching for his pen again. “If he suspects anything, he will run. He has two suitcases packed in his office closet right now.”
“He won’t suspect a thing,” I said. “He has spent fifteen years believing he is the smartest person in our marriage. His own confidence is the best trap we have.”
I stood up, pulling my wool coat tightly around my shoulders. The dampness of the Seattle winter seemed to have settled into my bones, but for the first time in weeks, my hands were not shaking. I took the copy of the signed authorization and folded it small, slipping it into the inner pocket of my coat.
