My Husband Used College Girls to Steal My Company

I put Sophie to bed early that night. I read her two stories until her breathing turned slow and steady. I kissed her forehead, closed her bedroom door, and waited in the living room.

The apartment was too quiet. Outside the high windows, snow fell softly over the Manhattan streetlights.

At seven o'clock, the front door clicked open.

Kolson walked in. He did not bring dinner. He did not smile. He took off his heavy winter coat, hung it in the foyer closet, and walked straight into the living room.

I stood by the kitchen counter. My hands rested flat on the cold marble.

Kolson poured himself a glass of water from the tap. He drank half of it, set the glass down, and turned to look at me. His face was completely smooth. The warm, doting husband from yesterday was gone. In his place was a stranger with eyes like gray ice.

"You went to see Rory Cruz," he said. His voice was flat. Not angry. Not nervous. Just empty.

"I did," I said. My voice did not shake. "I know about her. I know about the apartment you pay for. And I know about the twenty-five other women."

I waited for him to make an excuse. I waited for him to panic, or apologize, or lie like he had for years.

He did none of those things. He didn't even blink.

"Rory was hysterical when she called me," Kolson said calmly. He stepped closer to the island, leaning his hands against the counter. "She thought you were going to ruin her life. I had to spend an hour calming her down."

A cold knot twisted in my stomach. "Is that all you care about? A girl young enough to be in college? What about our marriage, Kolson? What about Sophie?"

Kolson let out a dry, quiet chuckle. It was a terrible sound.

"Don't be dramatic, Jolie," he said. "You're smarter than that."

"I want a divorce," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I spoke with an accountant today. I know you've been embezzling funds from Matthews & Associates. My father built that firm. I will take back what's mine, and I will take Sophie. You won't get a single penny."

For a second, the room went completely still.

Then, Kolson smiled. It was small and razor-sharp.

"Your father is dead, Jolie," he said softly. "He died three years ago. And while you were busy playing grieving daughter and stay-at-home mom, I was doing real work."

He leaned in across the island. The scent of his expensive cologne made my throat tighten.

"Victor Hale and the rest of the board don't answer to you," he whispered. "They answer to me. I control the majority vote. Every dollar that moves through Matthews & Associates moves because I say so."

"You stole it," I choked out.

"I managed it," he corrected. His voice stayed level, perfectly measured, as if he were explaining a contract to a client. "So here is how this is going to go. You can leave this marriage, Jolie. But you'll leave with nothing. No company. No money. And I will make sure every judge in Manhattan knows what kind of mother you really are."

My breath caught in my chest. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," he said.

He reached down and straightened his silver cufflinks with slow, practiced fingers. It was a neat, mechanical motion. Then he picked up his glass of water, turned his back on me, and walked down the hallway toward the guest room. The door shut behind him with a soft, final click.

I stood there in the kitchen. My knees gave out, and I grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from falling. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I paced in small, tight circles across the living room rug. I didn't realize I was doing it until my shoes scuffed against the wood floor. I looked down at my left wrist. My fingers touched the cool metal of my father’s old watch.

*Fight back,* I told myself. *Do not break.*

I grabbed my phone from the counter and dialed Alina.

"Jolie?" Alina answered on the second ring. "What happened? Did you find anything else?"

"Alina," I whispered. My voice finally cracked. "Please come over. I need you."

She arrived forty minutes later. She carried a bottle of red wine, a box of tissues, and snow melting on the shoulders of her dark coat. She kicked off her boots and pulled me into a fierce, tight hug.

"Tell me everything," she said softly.

We sat down at the kitchen table. I opened my father's leather-bound journal. I showed her the notes I took. I told her about the red-light ticket, the hidden messaging app, and the wire transfers to twenty-six different girls. I told her what the accountant said about the shell companies, and I told her every single word Kolson had just spat into my face.

"He threatened to take Sophie," I said, pressing a paper napkin against my eyes. "He said he owns the board. He said I'd leave with nothing."

I waited for Alina to gasp. I waited for her to curse his name, or scream, or look as shocked as I felt.

Instead, Alina sat completely still.

Her knuckles were white around her wine glass. Her eyes stayed locked on the tabletop. Her face wasn't full of surprise. It was full of a heavy, suffocating silence. A dark shadow of guilt passed over her features, and she quickly looked away from me.

My chest tightened. She didn't look shocked at all.

She looked like she already knew.

Before I could ask, Alina reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small white business card and slid it across the marble counter toward me.

On the card was a name printed in clean black letters: *Daniel Cho. Family Law & Corporate Litigation.*

"Call him tomorrow morning," Alina said, her voice shaking slightly. "He's the best lawyer in the city. If Kolson wants a war, Jolie... you're going to need an army."