Chapter 7
I held my phone so tightly my fingers hurt.
"Ethan's name?"
Daniel's voice remained calm.
"Yes."
I looked across the living room.
My son was sitting on the carpet, carefully attaching a wing to his model airplane.
He had no idea what I'd just heard.
I stepped into the hallway.
"What kind of account?"
"A custodial investment account."
My stomach tightened.
"Was money taken from him?"
"We don't know yet."
I closed my eyes.
Daniel continued.
"The account appears to have received transfers from a consulting entity connected to Harold Finch."
I felt sick.
"Why would Marcus use Ethan's name?"
"That's what we're investigating."
I looked toward the living room again.
For years, Marcus had used Ethan as proof that we were a happy family.
He posted photographs of them at basketball games.
Called himself a devoted father.
Spoke proudly about the importance of family values.
Now his name appeared in another financial concern.
And this time, our son was involved.
"Daniel, please find out everything."
"We will."
I ended the call.
Then I leaned against the wall.
For a moment, I wanted to scream.
Instead, I took a slow breath.
Ethan deserved calm.
He deserved a mother who could protect him without making him carry her fear.
I returned to the living room.
He looked up.
"Everything okay?"
I smiled gently.
"Yes, sweetheart. Just some business questions."
He nodded.
Then held up the airplane.
"Look!"
I sat beside him.
"It's beautiful."
He grinned.
"Almost finished."
I helped him attach the final piece.
For twenty minutes, I forgot about Marcus.
The company.
The investigation.
Everything.
I was simply a mother helping her son build a model airplane.
And that mattered more than any board meeting.
The next morning, Daniel called again.
The financial institution had confirmed that Ethan's account existed.
It had been opened several years earlier for legitimate educational savings.
Marcus had authority to manage it as the designated custodian.
But recent transactions raised questions.
Several transfers had entered the account from Finch Strategic Advisory.
Then smaller amounts had been moved out.
The pattern was unusual.
Simone suspected the account may have been used to disguise the movement of company funds.
But the records needed further examination.
I felt cold.
"Was Ethan's own money taken?"
Daniel paused.
"The legitimate savings appear intact based on the preliminary review."
Relief washed over me.
"But we need to separate those funds from the suspicious transfers."
I nodded.
"Do whatever is necessary."
He explained that the appropriate institutions had been notified.
The account was being reviewed.
And any unauthorized activity would be addressed.
I thanked him.
Then I called Patricia.
She listened quietly.
When I finished, she swore under her breath.
I had never heard my aunt swear before.
It almost made me laugh.
Almost.
"Nicole," she said, "your father would never forgive this."
I looked down.
"I know."
She paused.
"But he would be proud of how you're handling it."
My eyes filled.
The following week, the company filed a civil complaint against Marcus and Harold Finch.
The complaint alleged breach of fiduciary duty, improper financial transactions, and misuse of company resources.
The relevant authorities were also reviewing the financial evidence.
I attended meetings with lawyers.
Signed documents.
Reviewed records.
Asked questions.
Sometimes I felt overwhelmed.
But I refused to retreat.
For years, Marcus had told me I didn't understand business.
Now I was learning the details he'd hidden.
And each day, I grew more confident.
Then came the hardest decision.
Divorce.
I met with a family law attorney named Angela Brooks.
She was compassionate but direct.
She explained the process.
Property division.
Parenting arrangements.
Financial disclosures.
Protection of separate inherited assets.
I listened carefully.
Then she asked:
"Nicole, what do you want?"
I stared at her.
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
For fifteen years, my choices had revolved around what Marcus wanted.
What made him comfortable.
What avoided arguments.
What kept the peace.
Now someone was asking what I wanted.
I took a slow breath.
"I want peace."
Angela nodded.
I continued.
"I want Ethan to feel safe."
She smiled gently.
"And for yourself?"
I felt tears gathering.
"I want to stop being afraid."
Angela's expression softened.
"Then we'll work toward arrangements that protect your rights and your son's well-being."
I nodded.
For the first time, divorce didn't feel like failure.
It felt like the beginning of something healthier.
Ethan struggled with the changes.
He missed his father.
Sometimes he became quiet.
Other times, he asked difficult questions.
"Does Dad still love me?"
I always answered honestly.
"I believe he does. But love has to be shown through responsible choices."
Ethan nodded.
He began meeting with a child counselor.
The counselor helped him understand that he wasn't responsible for his parents' marriage.
Or Marcus's financial decisions.
Or the investigation.
Slowly, he began smiling more.
He returned to basketball practice.
Spent time with friends.
And stopped checking his phone every few minutes to see whether Marcus had called.
One afternoon, he came home holding a small trophy.
His team had won a local tournament.
I screamed when I saw it.
He laughed.
"Mom!"
I hugged him.
"I'm so proud!"
He smiled.
Then his expression changed.
"Dad wasn't there."
My heart tightened.
Marcus had promised to attend.
He hadn't shown up.
I crouched beside Ethan.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
He nodded.
Then whispered:
"At least you came."
I held him tightly.
I wanted to tell him Marcus would change.
But I couldn't promise that.
So I told him something true.
"I will keep showing up."
He smiled through his tears.
"Okay."
That evening, we celebrated with pizza.
Patricia came.
Daniel stopped by briefly.
Mama brought cupcakes.
Ethan laughed until he nearly spilled his soda.
For a few hours, everything felt normal.
Then Patricia's phone rang.
She stepped into the hallway.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
"Nicole, we need to talk."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
She looked toward Ethan.
Then back at me.
"Harold Finch has agreed to cooperate with investigators."
I sat upright.
"And?"
Patricia took a slow breath.
"He says Marcus wasn't planning to stop with the company."
I felt cold.
"What else?"
May you like
She looked directly at me.
"He was preparing to use the same forged authorization to claim control over part of your father's estate."
