Five minutes after my divorce was final, my father gripped my arm outside the courthouse and said, “Block every card, right now.” That night my ex tried to spend $300,000 on his mistress’s sapphire necklace with my company’s black card — in a club my firm owned.

Collins.

“Vanessa’s last name is Collins,” I said.

“Collins Design Group was formed in Illinois in August of last year. Registered agent: Vanessa Cole. It has no clients, no projects, and no website. It has one source of income. Your company. It has one expense pattern. A lease on an apartment in River North, a car, and, I’d guess if I pulled the card, a number of dinners at a club you pay for.”

I put my face in my hands.

“He’s been stealing from the company to pay for the affair.”

“He’s been stealing from the company to pay for the affair,” my father said, “and billing it to you as vendor costs, which means your margins have looked thin for a year and you’ve probably blamed the market, and your bookkeeper’s signed off because the signatory signed off, and the signatory is him.”

“Why would he— we were still married, it was still half his if—”