Then I took off the emerald dress, folded it across the bed, and put on sweatpants.
At 12:18 a.m., Greg began calling.
I did not answer.
At 12:26, he texted.
You made me look like a fool.
Not: I’m sorry.
Not: Please tell me what you heard.
Not even: Are you okay?
You made me look like a fool.
I took a screenshot and sent it to Richard.
He replied with one sentence.
Do not discuss finances with him without me present.
That instruction became my lifeline over the next seventy-two hours.
Greg came home after two in the morning and slept in the guest room after discovering I had locked the primary bedroom door.
Saturday morning, he tried charm.
He made coffee.
He said the birthday dinner had gotten “out of hand.”
He said everybody had been drinking.
He insisted “that pig” was a stupid joke that had sounded worse out of context.
“What context makes it better?” I asked.
He did not answer.
Then he tried to make it about my reaction.
Freezing accounts was reckless.
Embarrassing him in front of clients was damaging to the company.
Calling Richard without consulting him was a betrayal.
That word nearly made me laugh.
“Greg, you attempted to move sixty thousand dollars into a personal offshore trading account.”
His face changed.
“So this is about that.”
“No. This is about all of it.”
He folded his arms.
“You’ve been waiting for a reason to take over.”
I looked at him for a long time.
“I have been running the company for nineteen years.”
He actually smiled.
“You do paperwork.”
That ended the conversation.
Monday morning, Richard filed the separation documents.
By nine, Greg’s attorney had called.