Chapter 4
We flew home the next morning.
I had expected Ethan to be on our flight. He stayed on the island. I learned that from an email he sent while Mom and I waited to board.
He said he needed time to straighten out the company records.
I forwarded it to Priya.
At the airport back home, a driver took us to my mother’s house. I had asked Priya to recommend someone who could accompany me to the house I shared with Ethan. I wanted my clothes, my medical file, and the small wooden box of letters Dad had written me.
I did not want another conversation in a doorway.
Mom made up her guest room before I arrived. She had put a chair beside the bed so I could sit while dressing. There were crackers and water on the nightstand. Her care made me cry again, though I was getting tired of crying.
That afternoon, Priya came over with an accountant named Daniel Cho. They had followed the trust account through the first two distributions. The money had passed into a company account labeled as a temporary loan.
“Was it repaid?” I asked.
“Part of it,” Daniel said. “The rest appears to have been used for operating expenses.”
Ethan had used my father’s money to keep his company running, then sent me statements saying there had been no distribution at all.
“Did he think I’d never check?”
Priya closed the folder. “I can’t tell you what he thought. I can tell you he owed the trust accurate records.”
I was angry enough to stand, but I stayed seated for my daughter’s sake.
“Declan knew?” I asked.
“His review team flagged the transactions during the proposed acquisition. They hadn’t reached a conclusion. That’s why they contacted the trust’s representative.”
Ethan must have realized the sale would expose him. He had planned to get my signature before I could ask why.
Priya showed me the draft Vanessa had sent. It was a broad approval giving Ethan permission to settle issues related to the trust’s interest as part of the sale. The explanation beneath it was brief. If he had handed it to me during dinner and said it was routine, I might once have signed.
I thought of Dad showing me how to read the fine print on a car loan when I was sixteen. He had tapped the page and said, “Give yourself time, Gracie. Nobody who respects you needs your answer before you understand the question.”
I had forgotten to give myself that time with Ethan.
“We’ll seek the full accounting,” I told Priya.
“I’ve prepared the request.”
“And the marriage?”
“That decision is yours. You can take it one day at a time.”
I was grateful she left room for me to think. Ethan’s betrayal and the trust records had arrived together, but I did not have to settle every part of my life that afternoon.
The next day, Mom and I went to the house with a professional moving assistant Priya had recommended. Ethan was still away. I used my own key.
Our daughter’s room was almost ready. A yellow blanket hung over the crib. I had stitched its edge by hand during evenings Ethan spent at work. I stood there for a long time before folding it into my bag.
Mom carried my medical records and clothes to the car. I collected Dad’s letters from the study. Beside them I found a photograph of him and Ethan on the day they opened the first warehouse. Dad had his arm around Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan looked proud and young.
I put the photograph down.
On the desk lay a folder marked “Pierce Offer.” I did not open drawers or take things that were not mine. This folder was in plain sight, and my name was on a tab sticking out.
Inside was the approval Ethan had planned to show me. A yellow note was clipped to it.
“Get Grace’s signature before Friday.”
I photographed the note and sent it to Priya.
Then the front door opened.
I heard Ethan call my name.
Mom came out of the kitchen. “We’re collecting Grace’s things.”
He looked past her to the bag in my hand. “You’re moving out.”
“For now.”
“While I’m gone? You could have called.”
“I emailed you yesterday. You acknowledged it.”
“I thought you meant clothes for a few nights.”
“I don’t know how many nights I’ll need.”
He glanced at the folder on the desk. I watched him see that it was open.
“That was a draft,” he said.
“I know.”
“I was going to explain it.”
“You still can. To Priya and the accountant.”
His face tightened. “I built this company.”
“My father helped you build it. I believed in it too.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
I looked at the photograph on the desk, then back at him. “You had years to tell me where the trust money went.”
He did not deny it.
May you like
Mom took my bag. I walked past Ethan and out of the house. At the car, I turned once toward the yellow room upstairs.
I would bring my daughter home somewhere. I did not yet know where.
