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my teeth and made myself count to ten, but nothing got any better.
    Slowly, methodically, I picked up my manila envelope. The motion reminded me that we had another problem—the rights issue for Crystal Dreams. But somehow, that matter had faded in importance, blotted out by the fact that twenty-five percent of our operating budget had evaporated at the hands of my boyfriend.
    Former boyfriend.
    I stood up. I sought out Hal’s eyes, only to find that he was studying a mess of papers in front of him. I looked at all the other board members, swallowed my relief that everyone had found something else to occupy their apparent attention, something other than me. Only when I knew they weren’t staring at me did I trust myself to speak. “Is there anything else you need from me now? Or may I go clean out my office?”
    Hal met my eyes. “That won’t be necessary, Rebecca. You aren’t being fired.”
    I steadied myself by planting a hand on the table. “I’m not?”
    He shook his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
    Except trust a liar. A cheat. A thief.
    Alicia Morton tapped a fingernail against the table, the acrylic tip making more noise than I would have thought possible. A quick glance confirmed that she would gladly have shown me the door. Made me empty out my office. Empty my office and my bank account, pay back to the Mercer what was rightfully theirs.
    As if I’d ever seen a shadow of three and a half million dollars.
    I swallowed the sudden acid that coated the back of my throat as I realized that my own bank account—the one I shared with Dean—might very well be as empty as the Mercer’s. “I—” I said, but I barely trusted myself to continue. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
    Hal nodded. “We will, Rebecca. We most certainly will.”
    Bill Rodriguez cleared his throat and spoke before I could leave the room. “The police investigators are going to want to go through your office here, as well. I trust that you’ll help them?”
    “Yes,” I said, pretty certain that I didn’t actually have a choice.
    “And you’ll make yourself available to answer any questions they have as their investigation progresses?”
    “Of course,” I said. I’d help the nice policemen in any way I could. That’s what good girls did, right?
    And that was it. There was nothing more for me to say to the board, to their hired attorney. For them to say to me.
    I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I pushed back my chair. As I walked to the door. As I slunk out of the room where I’d learned that the past three years of my life had been a terrible, horrible lie. I barely made it to my soon-to-be-invaded office before the stinging in my eyes turned into a full flood of tears.

CHAPTER 3

    TWO HOURS LATER, I was still sitting in my tiny office, still staring at my computer screen, still trying to make sense out of how quickly my perfect grown-up life had come completely unraveled. It had taken almost half an hour of tears before I’d had the courage to turn to my computer. I’d offered up all sorts of prayers when I opened my Internet browser. I’d promised anyone who would listen to my silent soliloquy that I would be good, I’d work hard, I’d follow all the rules. I’d do anything, anything at all, if only….
    As I pulled up the bank’s Web site, I interrupted myself. Surely, I was worrying for nothing. There had to be another explanation for what had happened. Dean was going to walk in any minute now. He was going to explain that there’d been a computer glitch at the bank, that the accounts had all been transferred into some high-yield something-or-other, that the Mercer was really better off for whatever it was that he’d done.
    Gotta run. Don’t wait up.
    The lump in my stomach got larger. And colder. And more absolutely certain.
    When was the last time that Dean and I had actually had a conversation? He was always too busy, too wired from work.
    Forget about conversation. When