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The banker turned her monitor toward herself and lowered her voice. “Mrs. Mercer, there’s a problem. Our system says your divorce became final nine months ago.” I had come in to transfer the $28 million my aunt left me, money my husband knew nothing about yet. Instead of calling him, I photographed the screen, slipped my wedding ring into my purse, and called the one attorney he had always told me was “too suspicious for her own good.”
Part 1 The woman across the desk was named Denise Harper. I remember that because her nameplate sat beside a ceramic mug painted with blue...
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