Chapter 8 - Ethan’s Investigation
Victor Dane was found before noon.
He was sixty-seven now and living outside Meridian.
When Detective Sloan showed him the photograph, he admitted everything.
My father had hired him eight years earlier.
The assignment had been simple.
Learn Ethan Walker’s habits.
His business interests.
His relationships.
His vulnerabilities.
Most importantly, determine whether he had a serious romantic partner.
I felt physically ill hearing it.
Dad had not simply researched Ethan’s money.
He had researched whether Ethan was available.
Victor insisted he had never known why.
“He said he was considering a business investment,” Sloan told me afterward.
“And Victor believed him?”
“He was paid well not to ask questions.”
Ethan had apparently found Victor through old invoices.
Once he started investigating Mark’s theft, he traced money backward until he found a payment from one of Dad’s businesses.
That payment led to Victor.
That led to the charity auction.
That led to me.
I cried when I understood what Ethan must have thought.
“What if he believed I knew?”
Margaret shook her head.
“He never believed that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“The day he changed the trust.”
She reached into her bag.
“There is another recording.”
My heart lurched.
Margaret opened her tablet.
Ethan appeared.
He was sitting in Margaret’s office.
“I want this recorded because Claire will blame herself.”
I covered my mouth.
Ethan looked toward someone off camera.
“Make sure she hears this part.”
He faced the camera again.
“Claire, your father may have engineered the introduction.”
His eyes softened.
“But he did not engineer our marriage.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“He did not make me fall in love with you.”
I pressed my fingers against my lips.
“He did not make me ask you to marry me.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“And he sure as hell did not create Lily and Noah.”
I broke.
Margaret paused the video.
I cried harder than I had since the funeral.
Not because Ethan was gone.
Because for thirty seconds he felt alive again.
When I could finally breathe, Margaret continued.
Ethan explained that his investigation had uncovered forged invoices, false vendors, and unauthorized access to my financial records.
Then he said something unexpected.
“Richard is not the only one.”
The video stopped.
I looked at Margaret.
“Why did you pause it?”
“I didn’t.”
The file had ended.
“That’s all?”
“That is all he recorded that day.”
I wiped my face.
“So who else?”
Margaret shook her head.
“We thought Mark.”
“But?”
“Ethan already knew Mark was involved.”
Which meant he had been talking about someone else.
That afternoon, my mother arrived at the hospital under police escort.
She looked ten years older.
She did not try to hug me.
Maybe she knew she had lost that right.
“I want to tell you everything,” she said.
I stared at her.
“Start with your sworn statement.”
She began crying.
“Your father made me sign it.”
“You still signed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he showed me something.”
“What?”
My mother reached into her purse.
She removed a photocopy of a bank statement.
The account belonged to her.
There were deposits totaling $840,000.
My name appeared beside several transfers.
I stared at her.
“I never sent you this money.”
“I know.”
“Then who did?”
She looked toward the door.
May you like
“Carla.”
*
