Isn’t she beautiful?” David asked, gesturing to the boat. “Forty-two feet of pure luxury. We’re thinking of taking her to the Caribbean next month.” What he didn’t mention was that they’d bought it with the money I’d given them last year to invest in David’s consulting firm—three million dollars that I was beginning to suspect had never seen the inside of any business account.

The first hour was pleasant enough. We sailed into calm waters, the Massachusetts coastline growing smaller behind us. But then David started asking questions, casual ones at first, about my will, about the trust arrangements. “It’s just that probate can be so complicated, Mom,” he said, refilling my champagne glass with a little too much enthusiasm. “We want to make sure everything’s taken care of.”

That’s when I noticed Vanessa filming me with her phone. Not openly, but holding it at an angle while pretending to take selfies, getting me on camera while I was drinking, while I was talking about financial matters, building some kind of evidence.