I slowly pulled my phone out of my coat pocket.

“Are you calling an ambulance?” David whimpered, looking at me with pleading eyes, hoping for comfort or forgiveness.

“No,” I replied calmly, looking down at the man who had been willing to strip away my entire future for a fleeting illusion. “I’m calling the police, and then I’m calling the best forensic accountant and divorce attorney in the state.”

I dialed the three digits, standing tall under the single swinging basement bulb, realizing that the sweet smell of revenge wasn’t in the small bottle I had used that morning—it was in the quiet, undeniable justice of watching a betrayer fall into the very trap he had set for someone else.