My husband called me a whale, kissed his mistress in public, and told me to “dust the library.” Then he strutted into Asheville’s most exclusive Royal Estate Gala thinking he was untouchable.

Jensen Rhodes walked into the ballroom like he owned the entire building and everyone inside of it. He loved the way the conversations in the room dipped into a hush when he passed by with Skylar on his arm.

Skylar was wearing a bright red dress that was far too tight and she was vibrating with the excitement of being in such an elite space. Jensen whispered for her to act expensive and to tell everyone that she worked in brand strategy instead of being his assistant.

He had no idea that every dollar he had spent on his tailored tuxedo and his mistress’s jewelry had come from a source he did not understand. He did not know that the Amesbury legacy was finally closing the account on his fraudulent lifestyle.

Forty miles away in our home, I stood in my secret command center while the glow of three monitors illuminated the dark room. One screen showed the live feed from the hotel ballroom where Jensen was currently laughing with people who would soon despise him.