A jewelry invoice.
The diamond bracelet.
I recalled Corinne asking about that charge.
I told her it was a retirement gift for Martin Hale, one of our senior project managers.
Corinne had looked at me for several seconds.
“A diamond bracelet?”
“His wife chose it. Company gift.”
At the time, I had considered that proof that she believed me.
Now, holding the invoice, I saw she had simply stopped wasting questions on answers she knew were lies.
The next document was a lease.
Tessa’s downtown Nashville apartment.
The lease was not in my name.
But the monthly payments came from an account connected to one of my holding companies.
Corinne had traced every transfer.
Every one.
At the bottom of one bank statement, she had written a note.
While I spent the final weeks of my pregnancy attending appointments alone, you paid for another woman’s apartment.
While I stayed awake with our newborn, you booked a private villa.
