Eleanor demanded proof, so my lawyer, Mr. Okafor, opened his briefcase. The deed to the house had been in my name since before the wedding. I had bought it from my father’s estate and let Eleanor live there rent free for eleven years, because Victor said it would make her happy. She had never once checked the paperwork. The buyers had paid fairly, and my attorney had arranged everything within the week of the settlement.

Then he handed Victor a second folder. The board had not simply removed him. An internal audit, started the night I found the invoice, showed that the hotel suites, Sienna’s bracelet, and nearly two years of travel had been paid with company funds. Victor had labeled them client expenses. Sienna stared at the page, then at Victor, and whispered that he had told her the money was his own. She took off the bracelet and set it in his hand.

Victor tried to argue that he had been entitled to a perk or two, but the auditors’ signatures were on every page. Mr. Okafor explained that I would not press criminal charges if he repaid every dollar through the sale of his share of the lake condo and signed a full confession of the expense reports. Victor looked at his mother for help. Eleanor, white-faced, had just realized that she would be packing her own belongings within three days.

I did not gloat. I told Eleanor she could keep her furniture and that I had arranged a short lease on a small rental near her church, paid for six months, because even she deserved a roof. She stared at me and said nothing. Victor repaid the company by spring. Sienna resigned and moved away, and I appointed an interim CEO who had worked on the factory floor. Every Friday, I now eat lunch with the staff in the old warehouse, where my father’s first desk still stands.