The collapse was not magical or instant, but it was total.

By the next morning the board had suspended Gavin and Mason, frozen the extraordinary transactions, and brought in independent receivers.

The banks revoked the credit lines.

Crestview’s investment evaporated.

The nine-billion-dollar valuation crashed to earth.

The divorce papers I had been forced to sign under a belt were, of course, worthless.

My legal team dismantled them — proving the violence, the concealed assets, the sheer duress — and months later a family court judge threw out the fraudulent clauses and ordered the marital estate divided on fully audited, honest numbers.

I did not try to take every last dollar.