"My husband sent me a message from Cancun: “I left with your best friend. We’re not coming back.” I replied with only two words.

The inside of the banking office was heavily air-conditioned and smelled of expensive mahogany. Richard was standing at the teller window, frantically arguing with a clerk while clutching a small metal lockbox.

"I don't care about the authorization protocol, I need to open this box right now!" he was shouting, his voice cracking with panic.

"You can't, Richard," I said.

He froze. His entire body locked up as if he had been struck by lightning. Slowly, he turned around. When he saw me standing there, perfectly manicured, wearing a designer dress and a calm expression, all the blood drained from his face.

"Catherine?" he whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How... how are you here?"

"I took a direct flight," I said, walking slowly toward him. "It's amazing how easy travel is when your credit cards actually work."

He flinched at the mention of the cards. "You... you ruined everything. You canceled the accounts! Do you have any idea what you've done? The people I owe money to, they are going to kill me!"

"You ruined your own life, Richard," I said, my voice eerily calm, echoing in the quiet bank. "You tried to steal twelve million dollars. You forged my name on federal documents to frame me for your crimes. And you ran away with my best friend. Did you really think I was just going to sit at home and weep while you destroyed my life?"

"Catherine, please," Richard dropped the lockbox and took a step toward me, his hands raised in a pathetic pleading gesture. "You don't understand. I was in too deep. Volkov was threatening me. I had to run. I was going to send for you, I swear!"

I actually laughed. It was a sharp, humorless sound. "You sent me a text message from a beach chair, Richard. 'We aren't coming back.' You threw me to the wolves. But you forgot one crucial detail."

"What?" he breathed.

"I am the wolf," I smiled coldly.