My husband sold my two-million-dollar

—L.
“You knew?” Elena asked quietly.
“I suspected,” I said. “Found it when he claimed he was at a cattle auction.”
I folded the receipt and returned it to the tin. Suspicion isn’t proof—but preparation matters.
My phone buzzed.
Margaret—Samuel’s sister. Third call that week. This time, I answered.
“Lily,” she said, breathless. “I’ve been trying to warn you. Samuel’s been asking about property transfers… deed technicalities…”