Valentina's next message arrived two days later, longer this time, detailed in a way that made my stomach turn even as it made my case stronger — offshore accounts, board dealings Robert Smith had kept quiet for years, a pattern of financial maneuvering that stretched back further than I'd realized. Diane read through it with the focused intensity of a woman recognizing a gift she hadn't expected to be handed this early.
But that was a fight for another day. That afternoon, I had smaller, more immediate things to build.
"You need an income," Sofia said, blunt as always, sliding a folded newspaper across the kitchen table toward me. "Not because Enzo can't cover things. Because you need something that's yours. Something Bruce can't take credit for or take away."
I understood exactly what
