Before we reached the altar, my three-year-old grandson squeezed my hand and whispered, “Grandpa, she was mean to Mommy.” Then he pointed toward my future wife and pulled a USB drive from his tiny pocket—one that would soon reveal the truth she had been hiding.

The second file I opened was a bank statement.

My personal investment account.

Except it was not an actual bank statement.

It was a screenshot from an online application.

A transfer request.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

Beneficiary account.

Reyes Consulting Holdings.

I had never heard of Reyes Consulting Holdings.

Then I noticed the status.

Pending approval.

My signature appeared at the bottom.

Electronic.

I stared.

I had never approved that transfer.

I opened the next file.

A power-of-attorney draft.

Naming Monica as agent.

My name appeared.

Again.

Signature.

Again.

Not mine.

The date was two months earlier.

My stomach turned.

PART 13