My Husband Used College Girls to Steal My Company

The hotel restaurant was tucked away on a quiet street in Midtown. Inside, the lights were low and warm. Soft jazz played from the ceiling speakers. Rich people sat in leather booths, murmuring over plates of steak and silver ice buckets.

Kolson was already waiting at a corner table.

He stood up the moment he saw me. He wore his tailored charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt. His cufflinks caught the dim candlelight. He looked handsome. He looked like the man I married.

"You look beautiful, Jolie," he said softly.

He pulled out my chair. His hand grazed my shoulder for a second, warm and familiar. I sat down, my fingers instantly finding the cool metal face of my father’s watch under my sleeve. I rubbed the dial with my thumb to keep myself grounded.

"Thank you," I said.

A waiter appeared at Kolson's shoulder. Kolson didn't even look at the menu.

"A bottle of the 2015 Napa Cabernet," Kolson told him smoothly. "Her favorite."

The waiter nodded and vanished.

I looked across the small round table at Kolson. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered," he said. He leaned his elbows on the white tablecloth. "I remember everything about you, Jolie. Even when I’m being a blind idiot."

The waiter returned, poured the dark red wine into two crystal glasses, and left us alone. Kolson lifted his glass.

"To us," he whispered. "To ten years. And to starting over."

The crystal clinked with a clear, sharp ring. I hesitated, then took a small sip. The wine was rich and dry. It warmed my throat.

"Do you remember Rome?" Kolson asked suddenly. His gray eyes crinkled at the corners.

A tight knot formed in my stomach. "Our honeymoon."

"We couldn't afford a taxi that night," he smiled, shaking his head. "We walked three miles in the wrong direction and ended up by the river. It started pouring. We found that tiny bakery closing up, bought a cold slice of pizza, and ate it sitting on the stone bridge at midnight."

"You dropped half your slice into the water," I said. The words came out before I could stop them.

Kolson let out a soft laugh. "I did. And you gave me the rest of yours."

He reached across the table. His fingers slid over mine. His palm was warm and dry. He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. It was the exact same touch he used when Sophie was born.

"I was so terrified that night in the hospital," he murmured, his voice dropping low. "When the doctors wheeled you in for the emergency C-section. I sat in that plastic chair in the hallway and prayed for four hours straight. When they finally put Sophie in my arms, I looked at you and thought, *I will spend the rest of my life protecting them.*"

My throat tightened. A sudden sting hit my eyes.

I told myself it was an act. I told myself he was a liar, an embezzler, a man who kept twenty-six women on a payroll. But sitting there in the warm candlelight, with his hand over mine, the past ten years felt heavy. It was ten years of breakfasts, scraped knees, holidays, and shared beds. You don't just stop loving someone in four days. The pain in my chest felt like an open wound.

"You remember when she tried to feed the dog her birthday cake?" Kolson chuckled quietly. "She got frosting in her hair, in the dog’s fur, all over the rug."

A small laugh escaped my lips. "We had to wash her three times in the sink."

I shook my head, laughing softly at the memory, and looked toward the window to blink away a stray tear. Outside, a fresh coat of snow dusted the black pavement.

Kolson's hand shifted on the table. It was a tiny, split-second rustle of cloth against glass.

When I turned back, he was looking at me with pure tenderness.

"Drink your wine, sweetheart," he said softly. "It’s good for you."

I picked up the crystal glass. My chest felt raw, caught between the warmth of my memories and the ice in my gut. I took a deep swallow. Then another. The glass was almost empty when I set it down.

"Kolson," I started, trying to find my footing again. "We still need to talk about the accounts. We need to talk about—"

My tongue suddenly felt thick.

The word stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I blinked. The candle flame in the center of the table flared wide. It didn't look like a single flame anymore. It smeared into a streak of bright yellow light.

"Jolie?" Kolson asked.

His voice sounded strange. It sounded like he was speaking to me from the end of a long, tiled hallway.

A wave of dizzy heat rushed into my skull. My ears rang with a high, sharp whine. I pressed my hands flat against the table to steady myself, but the marble felt soft, like water. The walls of the dining room tilted to the left.

"I..." I tried to speak, but only a dry rasp came out.

My heart hammered in panic. I tried to stand up, but my legs had turned into lead. My knees buckled beneath the table. The crystal wine glass tipped over, dark red liquid spreading across the white cloth like blood.

*The wine,* my brain screamed in terror. *He put something in the wine.*

My vision went dark at the edges. The room began to spin faster and faster. I slumped sideways, slipping off the leather chair.

Before I hit the floor, strong hands caught me.

Kolson's arm wrapped firmly around my waist. He pulled me against his chest, holding me upright. His hand was steady and solid on my shoulder.

"I've got you," he whispered gently into my hair. "It's okay, honey. I’ve got you."

His chest felt broad and safe. For one terrible, fleeting second, my fading mind clung to that warmth. I thought he was catching me. I thought he was saving me.

Then the blackness rushed in, and the world went out.