“What’s up, beautiful?” I had asked Megan. “Aren’t you pleased they found it? It looks expensive.” It was expensive, for something so skimpy anyway.

“I…” she had started, confusion reigning on her face. I could see the struggle.

“You could pop it on again?” I went to stand in front of her. “It was fun last time, you looked so sexy in my lap on the sofa.” I watched the look flit across her face again. I had taken her hand and put it on my crotch so she could feel how turned on I was by the memory.

I had taken the negligee back to Leah a few nights later, keen to continue the game a little longer. But Leah had dismissed the garment and told me she had something much more fun.

God, I miss that woman. For all I had my eyes on her money, and I knew things would end eventually, I do wish we’d had more time.

I have made a list of all of Leah’s assets that are held in accessible deposits. I am not going to be greedy; I don’t want everything. Just enough that these past few years living with Megan were worth my time. Plus, I will have to divorce her and that will go on my record. Finding other gullible women will become slightly more difficult, an ex-wife always gets their backs up. I’ll have to field questions about Megan forever, about what she was like and why we broke up and if she’s likely to try to stalk me, or if she has issues with jealousy. It’s going to be tiresome, so I intend to be appropriately compensated.

There is a savings account and two current accounts with a high street bank, their combined balances total just over one hundred thousand pounds. We are in the kitchen, Leah’s laptop open on the small table, Megan sitting in front of it. I stand behind her, my hands heavy on her shoulders. “Buy bitcoin,” I instruct her.

“Bitcoin?”

I know she is familiar with cryptocurrencies; she was an accountant for God’s sake and these things are hardly new. I stare at her until she shrugs. “Fine. What’s the account?”

I read it out to her. No way I’m going to leave that information just lying around on a sheet of paper. Although within ten minutes all those funds will have been moved over a dozen times, bouncing around a range of accounts I have set up in preparation over the years. Untraceable. Except by me.

Then it’s on to the main account. The big one. Pullman is a serious bank with a head office in the center of the City. They serve only high-net-worth clients. Leah has an account with over three million pounds sitting in it.

“You can’t buy three million in bitcoin,” Megan tells me. “You’ll flag on every terrorist monitor.”

I doubt it, but I pause for half a second. “Just do it.” With my hands still on her shoulders, I can feel her pulse in her neck and it is fluttering like a hummingbird. Perhaps she should see someone about that elevated heart rate. I’m not sure it’s normal.