Lucas didn’t work in finance. He had been fired from his brokerage two years earlier for unauthorized trading and never told anyone. His Mercedes was leased, and three payments behind. Since then, he had been quietly moving money out of Bianca’s company through fake vendor invoices, and draining her personal savings to cover his losses. Regulators had already opened an inquiry. Whoever held legal proxy for the company’s financial liabilities would answer for it.

That was page thirty-eight. Clause thirty-eight was the trap. Lucas had drafted the contract himself and convinced Bianca and my parents it was a clever way to protect her career. If I signed, the broke sister would become the official name attached to every missing dollar. Bianca swore she didn’t understand the clause. Watching her face, I believed she hadn’t read it carefully either. She had trusted her husband, just as my parents trusted her.

Dad put his phone down. Mom sat silently, still wearing her pearls, staring at the ugly coat she had made me wear. Bianca cried at the table, and for once, nobody told her she was brilliant. I called my general counsel before dessert. Lucas was arrested two weeks later for embezzlement and securities fraud. My firm recovered most of the money. Because I had recused myself from Bianca’s appointment, the board kept her on, under strict oversight, and she cooperated fully.

My parents called for weeks. I answered once. Dad apologized for walking past me, and Mom admitted she had never asked what I did because she was afraid of the answer. Bianca filed for divorce in February. She sends me flowers on my birthday now, and her assistant’s name is not Maren. As for the Honda, I drove it out of their driveway the next morning, from right out front.