That same day I changed every password, activated additional security, and restricted all access to my accounts. Megan sent formal legal notices stating that all financial communication must go through her office moving forward.
That night he texted me as if nothing had happened.
“Do you want to have dinner tonight? I miss you,” he wrote.
I looked at the message and smiled faintly, because I now saw him clearly for the first time. He behaved like a man who believed he still controlled everything, not realizing that the ground beneath him was already shifting.
On Friday, he organized a dinner in Preston Hollow to celebrate the supposed investment. The setting was elegant, with soft lighting, expensive wine, and carefully rehearsed speeches about growth and trust.
My father, the lawyer, and I arrived together, and my husband welcomed us with confidence that now felt almost absurd. He spoke for several minutes about partnership and family values, completely unaware of what was coming.
Before any transfer could be discussed, my father placed his glass on the table and spoke calmly.
“We need to review one clause in the contract before proceeding,” he said.