Chapter 6 - What Ethan Never Knew
Ethan asked everyone to leave except the Mitchell family, Daniel, and two senior Carter executives.
Most guests departed quickly.
The engagement decorations suddenly looked absurd.
White roses.
Gold ribbons.
Crystal glasses.
Everything prepared for a future that might no longer exist.
I finally accepted dry clothes from the house manager.
When I returned, Ethan stood alone near the fireplace.
He looked exhausted.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the financial investigation?”
“Because I wasn’t certain yet.”
He nodded.
“And why the disguise?”
I sat across from him.
“Because every time I met Vanessa before, she knew exactly who I was.”
“She was always polite to you.”
“Exactly.”
He frowned.
I continued.
“She sent me flowers on my birthday.”
“She remembered my favorite tea.”
“She volunteered for the Carter Foundation dinner.”
“None of those things told me who she was when nobody important was watching.”
Ethan looked away.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
The words hurt him.
I reached across the table.
“I didn’t come here hoping to prove you wrong.”
He looked at me.
“I came hoping I was wrong.”
His eyes became wet.
But Ethan had always hated crying in front of people.
He breathed slowly until the emotion passed.
“She wasn’t always like this.”
“Maybe.”
I paused.
“Or maybe you weren’t always in a position to see it.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“We met when she was helping organize that charity gala in Atlanta.”
I remembered.
“She told me she had spent years working with housing organizations.”
“She did.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
I opened another document.
“She appeared at fundraising events.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“The organization she claimed to volunteer for has no record of her working there beyond two photographed events.”
He stared at me.
“She told me she spent weekends there.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you told me.”
He stood.
For several seconds, he paced silently.
“She lied about charity work?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps because she knew what mattered to you.”
That hurt more than the financial records.
I could see it.
Ethan’s father had grown up poor.
After becoming successful, he spent much of his life funding housing and scholarship programs.
Ethan continued that work.
Vanessa’s supposed compassion had been one of the reasons he admired her.
He sat again.
“How long have you suspected her?”
“Three months.”
His eyes widened.
“That long?”
“I had concerns.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I needed facts.”
He laughed without humor.
“Apparently everyone knew things except me.”
I felt the accusation.
And I deserved part of it.
“I should have spoken sooner.”
He stared at the fireplace.
“Yes.”
The single word landed harder than anger.
Before I could respond, voices rose in the hallway.
George.
Then Vanessa.
A door slammed open.
Vanessa entered holding my grocery tote.
She threw it onto the table.
“You want everyone examined?”
Her face was flushed with fury.
“Fine.”
She pointed at me.
“Ask your mother why she has photographs of me meeting a private investigator.”
Ethan slowly turned toward me.
I looked at the tote.
Then at Vanessa.
May you like
She had searched my bag after all.
And in doing so, she had just exposed the next part of the story herself.
