For seven years, I secretly funded my husband's family, but after he struck my mother and called her a thief, an Army colonel arrived and everything changed.

"Dustin," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Do you really think that an active-duty two-star general leaves classified operational files on an unencrypted thumb drive in a master bedroom closet?"

Dustin’s grin faltered. The corners of his mouth twitched downward. "I... I had it cracked. The tech said—"

"The tech you hired is an informant for the Army Criminal Investigation Division," Colonel Vance said from behind Trevor, who was still groaning on the floor. "He notified our cyber detachment the moment you contacted him at three in the morning. Those files were fabricated honey-tokens, Mr. Kelly. Every single document you just handed to General Carter was digitally watermarked, tracked, and planted by our counter-intelligence team six months ago when we first noticed unauthorized access attempts from your home IP address."

Dustin’s hands dropped to his sides. The papers lay on the table between us, completely useless.

"You... you set me up?" he whispered.

"No, Dustin," I said, my voice hardening. "You set yourself up. You assumed that because I didn't bring my work home, because I let you pick the paint colors and buy the cars and run your mouth at charity galas, that I was stupid. You assumed that a woman who spent twenty-eight years climbing through the ranks of the United States military couldn't see through a petty, insecure narcissist who couldn't balance his own checkbook."

The door to the conference room opened again.

Brenda walked in. But she was no longer wearing her country club pearls or carrying her bag of muffins. She looked broken, her makeup smeared across her cheeks, escorted by two uniformed state troopers.

"Mom?" Trevor gasped from the floor. "Mom, what are they doing to you?"

Brenda didn't look at Trevor. She didn't look at Dustin. She walked over to Eleanor, who sat silently on the couch, and dropped to her knees on the rug.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor," Brenda sobbed, her voice breaking into ragged pieces. "I am so, so sorry. I should have stopped them. I should have told the police two years ago."

"Mom, shut up!" Dustin screamed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched panic. "Shut your mouth! Don't say anything without a lawyer!"

"They found the mechanic, Dustin!" Brenda wailed, turning on him with sudden, venomous fury. "The troopers went to old man Miller’s garage out on Route 4! He told them everything! He told them Trevor brought the truck in at three in the morning with the bicycle pedal still lodged in the radiator! He told them you paid him fifteen thousand dollars cash to keep quiet and weld the frame!"

Trevor buried his face in the carpet and began to weep aloud.

Dustin stood frozen, his eyes darting frantically around the room, looking for an exit that didn't exist. There were state troopers at the door, two military security officers at the window, and Colonel Vance standing like an executioner over his brother.

"It wasn't me," Dustin whispered, his voice shrinking until he sounded like a terrified child. "I wasn't in the truck, Audrey. Trevor was driving. I just helped him. I was protecting my brother. You protect family, don't you? That's what you do!"

"Not when your family is a nest of parasites and murderers," I said.

The senior state trooper, Captain Miller—no relation to the victim, but a man whose jaw was set with the cold fury of a twenty-year veteran—stepped forward, unhooking two pairs of steel handcuffs from his utility belt.

"Dustin Kelly. Trevor Kelly. You are under arrest for accessory after the fact to vehicular homicide, tampering with physical evidence, extortion, and obstruction of justice."

As the steel ratcheted shut around Dustin’s wrists, he looked at me, his eyes wide and hollow. "Audrey... what about our marriage? What about everything we built?"