But what finally left my mouth was something else entirely.

"Brian, do you even remember why we don't have a child?"

We did have one, once.

A beautiful little girl.

The year she was born, Brian's constant cheating led to fight after fight between us. The stress dried up my milk.

And all because I'd slapped Joan across the face, just once.

As punishment, Brian handed control of every cent in the household over to his mistress.

I will never forget that day as long as I live.

My baby screaming, wailing from hunger.

Me, sobbing, begging Brian. "I was wrong. Please, just let the nanny go buy some formula. Please?"

"She can't go hungry any longer!"

But Brian only frowned, his voice cold and measured. "Eleanor, when you do something wrong, you face the consequences."

"Remember this: your daughter went hungry today because of you."

That day, Brian turned around and took Joan to Disneyland.

And I was left with nowhere to turn.

I went to a stranger. Knelt before him. Bowed my head to the floor. Even started unbuttoning my blouse.

"Please, just help me buy some formula for my daughter. I'll do anything..."

The man took pity on me. He didn't touch me. He gave me a thousand dollars and bought the formula himself.

Later, my daughter fell ill with a rare disease.

When we desperately needed money for her treatment, Joan deliberately held Brian back.

"Brian, every kid gets sick now and then."

"Eleanor's obviously making it up to guilt-trip you. It's just another one of her sympathy ploys."

And Brian let his mistress lead him away, smug and triumphant.

While I watched my daughter, not yet a year old, die right in front of me.

How was I supposed to let that go?

Now, I delivered my final words, cold as a blade.

"Brian Delgado, I want you to remember for the rest of your life: you are the one who failed me and our child."

After I hung up, the twenty million dollars came through.

I tapped confirm without hesitation.

Then I tilted my phone screen toward Mervyn. "The money's in."

He studied me from across the room. "How much longer do we wait?"

I sat on the terrace of my villa, swirling a glass of red wine.

"Not long. The net's closing."

Joan, riding high on her pregnancy, had taken Brian's card out shopping. When she tried to pay, the cashier told her the balance was insufficient.

Her eyes went wide. "That's impossible."