The brokerage accounts.
The offshore investments.
All of it existed under entities I controlled.
Legally and financially, he was nothing more than someone benefiting from my generosity.
That night I didn’t go home.
Home no longer felt like a place—it felt like a stage where I had unknowingly funded my own humiliation.
Instead, I checked into a five-star hotel overlooking Sunset Boulevard, ordered champagne I never touched, and called my lawyer.
When he answered, surprised by the late hour, I gave him one clear instruction.
“Sell the house in Bel Air immediately,” I said. “I don’t care about the price. Transfer the funds to my personal account.”
He paused only briefly before asking if I was sure.
