“I’m just going in for a quick document signing, Vic. Why don’t you wait in the car? It’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

Dan’s voice had been so smooth earlier that morning, so effortless in its deceit. He had kissed my cheek, smelling of sandalwood and that crisp, ironed-linen scent that used to mean safety. I had nodded, playing the part of the dutiful, tired wife, watching him adjust his tie in the rearview mirror before he stepped out into the humid Manila heat and disappeared into the glass-and-steel monolith that was the Blackwood Corporate Headquarters.

But the “spy” didn’t stay in the car.

I waited exactly three minutes before I...