I sold my business for $45 million. I ran to my husband’s office to tell him. When I arrived, I h…

There were photographs of them entering a condo in Mount Pleasant, one Robert was apparently renting. Credit card receipts from romantic restaurants. Texts that Marcus obtained through means I didn’t ask about.

But it was the video that sealed it. Marcus caught them on camera kissing in the parking lot of the Harbor Inn.

Robert’s hand was on Melissa’s face in a gesture so tender it made my stomach turn, because I remembered when he used to touch me like that.

While Marcus gathered evidence, I made other preparations. I opened a new bank account at a different bank, one where Robert had no access.

Bernard helped me transfer the 45 million into it, minus the taxes we’d need to pay. The rest went into a secure trust.

I also started documenting everything in our joint accounts. Robert had always handled our finances, but I had access to the statements.

I discovered things I’d missed for years. Large cash withdrawals, payments to furniture stores and jewelry shops that had never resulted in anything appearing in our home.

There was a credit card I didn’t know existed, with charges to hotels and restaurants across three states. The man I’d been married to for 37 years had been living a double life.

Marital Assets and Federal Crimes

On day 12, Robert came home early. I was in the kitchen making dinner like I had thousands of times before: grilled chicken, roasted vegetables.

It was the meal plan we’d followed for years because of his cholesterol.

“Dorothy, we need to talk,”

He said. My heart jumped, but I kept my voice steady.

“About what?”

“About the money from the sale. I’ve been thinking, and I really should be involved in the investment decisions. It’s a lot of money and you’ve never had to manage that kind of sum before. I could set up a meeting with our financial adviser”.

“Our financial adviser?”

“Well, mine technically, but he could help both of us. The thing is, Dorothy, we need to be strategic about this. Tax implications, estate planning, wealth management… it’s complicated”.

I turned from the stove to face him.

“You want to control the money”

“Not control, manage. There’s a difference”

“Is there?”

He sighed like I was being difficult.

“Dorothy, I know you’re still upset about what you saw at my office. I’ve told you, Melissa and I, it’s not serious. It’s just… it’s complicated, midlife crisis stuff. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re married, and that money from your business, it’s a marital asset”.

“Actually, it’s not.”

I said quietly. He blinked.

“What?”

“The business was started before our marriage with my separate funds. I ran it independently for 40 years. Legally, the sale proceeds are my separate property”.

I watched his face change: surprise, then calculation, then something harder.

“You’ve been talking to a lawyer”

“I have”

“Dorothy, you’re making a mistake. You’re listening to people who want to divide us. Whatever you think you saw…”

“I didn’t think I saw anything, Robert. I saw you with Melissa, and you admitted to a three-year affair. That’s not a misunderstanding”.

“So what? You’re going to divorce me after 37 years over one mistake?”

“One mistake that lasted three years. And I’m starting to realize it’s probably not even the first”.

His jaw tightened.

“You can’t do this. That money… I have rights to it. I supported you all these years”.

“Supported me? I ran a business for 40 years, Robert. A successful business that I built from nothing. You supported yourself. You had your career, your life. I had mine”.

“We’re married, Dorothy. That means what’s yours is mine”

And there it was: the real Robert. Not the man who’d held my hand at my mother’s funeral, not the man who danced with me at our daughter’s wedding.

He was the man who saw me and $45 million as property to be claimed. I turned off the stove; the chicken could burn for all I cared.

“You’re going to hear from my lawyer. I’m filing for divorce on grounds of adultery. I have evidence: photographs, videos, witness statements, financial records of you spending marital funds on your affair. You can contest it if you want, but it’s going to get ugly. Uglier than it needs to be”.

His face went red.

“You can’t be serious”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life”

“Where are you going to go? This is your home”

Actually, I said, picking up my purse,

“this is our home. Jointly owned marital property, which means I’m entitled to stay here just as much as you are. But I don’t want to. I’m going to stay with Christina for a while”.

“You’re turning our daughter against me”

“I’m telling our daughter the truth. What she does with that information is up to her”

I walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs to our bedroom, and packed a suitcase. Robert followed me, arguing, pleading, and threatening by turns.

I ignored him as I loaded my suitcase into my car. He stood in the driveway.

“You’re going to regret this, Dorothy. You think you can just take everything and leave me with nothing? I’ll fight you. I’ll fight you for every penny”.

I looked at him, really looked at him, maybe for the first time in years. When had he become this person? Or had he always been this way and I’d just chosen not to see it?

“You do what you have to do, Robert. So will I”

The divorce proceedings were every bit as ugly as Bernard had warned me they would be. Robert hired an aggressive attorney who tried every angle.

They claimed the business had benefited from Robert’s emotional support and financial stability. They argued that his accounting expertise had helped me structure deals and avoid tax pitfalls.

They even tried to claim that he deserved compensation for sacrificing career opportunities to support my entrepreneurial endeavors. This was laughable, considering he’d been a partner at his firm for 18 years.

But I had Marcus’ evidence: the photographs, the credit card statements showing thousands spent on jewelry I’d never received, and the text messages that left no doubt about the nature of their relationship.

And I had something else. During my documentation of our finances, I discovered that Robert had taken out a second mortgage on our house without telling me.

He used the funds to invest in a failed real estate venture with one of Melissa’s ex-husbands. He’d forged my signature on the documents.

That turned out to be a federal crime. Bernard leveraged that information beautifully.

Robert’s lawyer got very quiet when we presented the evidence of forgery and fraud.

“We didn’t press criminal charges,”

Bernard explained in a meeting with all attorneys present, as long as Robert was reasonable about the divorce settlement.

Reasonable, in this case, meant I kept the 45 million from the business sale. Robert got to keep his retirement accounts and his interest in the accounting firm.

We would split the sale of the house 50/50 after paying off the fraudulent second mortgage. Robert would also need to buy out my half of his retirement since he’d spent marital funds on the affair.

Melissa, interestingly, broke up with Robert two months into the proceedings. Apparently, having an affair with a married partner was exciting, but being associated with a man in the middle of a contentious divorce involving fraud allegations was not.