And I knew he did. I knew that Bill knew—was the only one who knew—that he was my rock, my safe place, my port in the storm. Without him, I was totally adrift. Trying to hold it together had nearly killed me. I knew then that not coming here had been a protective move in more ways than one. If I saw him, I would default to letting him fix things. That wasn’t an option. I needed to be strong for Iris; I had to be the one with the plan. He held my face in his hands and said, “Look at me.”

I nodded, and I did, suddenly not caring what he had done, or how bad it was. I just had to get him out of here.

“I did not do this,” he said firmly.

I nodded because I knew he was telling the truth; I’d known it the moment I saw him sitting so small in the corner. I believed him with all my heart, and then I felt even worse because I’d been mad at him when I should have been helping him.

“I know,” I whispered. I bit my lip. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for the arraignment.” I had let myself off the hook, told myself that not standing beside my husband as he faced the federal magistrate was because I was getting Iris and me set up for our next move. But the reality was that I just couldn’t face it.

Over Bill’s shoulder I finally noticed the man I had once believed held the key to solving all our problems: Oliver Engle, the refined, fortysomething British attorney Bill had hired as his head counsel at Sitterly Capital three years ago. He always wore horn-rimmed glasses and wool sports coats that made him seem as if he’d just come from a hunt. And he smelled faintly of pipe tobacco, though I’d never seen him smoke. Something about his mere presence soothed me.

Upon spotting him, I remembered it wasn’t just Bill and me here. I took a deep breath, wiped my face, and walked to him. “Well, well, well… you aren’t dead in a gutter or on vacation on a deserted island.”

He looked sheepish. “Apologies, Charlotte. I’ve been working nonstop to get Bill out of here until his trial—at least get him on house arrest.”

“House arrest,” I repeated. “You mean, like, at the house I’m not allowed to go into?”

Bill slumped back down in the chair. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. As soon as we figure out how to get me out of here, Oliver and I will put all our effort into getting your and Iris’s lives back to normal—or as normal as possible.”