Chapter 7
The first loan was for seventy thousand dollars.
The second for one hundred twenty thousand.
The third pushed the total above three hundred thousand.
All under entities connected to Caspian.
He was sixteen when the first one was opened.
I stared at the documents.
“He was a child.”
Evelyn nodded.
“That is the problem.”
“Dalton used his Social Security number?”
“It appears so.”
My anger became something I could barely contain.
Money stolen from me was one thing.
Our son’s identity was another.
“Does Caspian know?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll tell him.”
I drove home.
He was packing books.
I sat on his bed.
He knew immediately.
“What happened?”
“There are loans.”
“What loans?”
“In your name.”
He stared.
Then laughed once.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He stood.
“Dad wouldn’t do that.”
The sentence escaped before he could stop it.
Hope.
Even now.
A piece of him still wanted a father he could defend.
“I wish he hadn’t.”
Caspian paced.
“How much?”
“About three hundred thousand.”
He stopped.
“Am I responsible?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Evelyn is.”
He covered his face.
“I hate this.”
I stood.
“I know.”
“I hate finding something new every day.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I gave that speech.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because now everyone thinks I’m some hero.”
He looked at me.
“I’m not.”
“You never needed to be.”
“I just wanted one normal graduation.”
My heart broke.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Look at us. Just trading that sentence back and forth.”
I hugged him.
He resisted.
Then held me tightly.
“I don’t want to see him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But part of me does.”
“That’s okay too.”
“What if I still love him?”
I pulled back.
“Of course you still love him.”
“After this?”
“Love doesn’t disappear because someone disappoints you.”
“Then what do I do with it?”
I thought about Dad’s letter.
“You stop letting love excuse what hurts you.”
Caspian sat down.
A few days later, he asked Dalton to meet.
Public place.
Evelyn nearby.
I offered to come.
He said no.
I respected it.
When he returned, he looked exhausted.
“What happened?”
“He admitted it.”
“The loans?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said his firm had cash-flow problems.”
I almost laughed.
“He stole your identity because his firm needed money?”
“He said he planned to repay everything.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Of course.
Caspian sat beside me.
“I asked why he never asked me.”
“What did he say?”
“That I would have said no.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Every betrayal in one sentence.
He knew the answer.
So he removed the choice.
“That isn’t consent,” I said.
“I told him.”
“What else?”
Caspian looked toward the window.
“He cried.”
I waited.
“He said he ruined everything.”
“Did you forgive him?”
“No.”
“Did he ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That forgiveness isn’t the same as access.”
I looked at my son.
Eighteen.
Still young.
And somehow wiser than both his parents had been during our marriage.
“I’m proud of you.”
He shrugged.
“I stole that line from therapy videos.”
“Still proud.”
Investigators eventually cleared Caspian of all liability.
The loans were fraudulent.
His credit was repaired.
The lake property went into receivership while ownership was reviewed.
Then Seraphine was arrested.
The charges were financial.
Fraud.
Receiving misappropriated trust assets.
Conspiracy.
Attempted extortion over Dad’s letter.
She posted bail.
When reporters caught her outside the courthouse, she smiled and called me “a bitter ex-wife who couldn’t move on.”
I watched the clip once.
Then turned it off.
Naomi wanted to respond publicly.
“No.”
“She called you bitter.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“She wore sunglasses indoors.”
“That is punishment enough.”
Caspian laughed.
That mattered more.
Martin Shaw’s situation became uglier.
Emails showed he deliberately hid assets during my divorce while pretending to represent me.
His firm records showed Dalton later paid him a large “business development bonus.”
The state bar suspended him.
Prosecutors began investigating whether the payment was effectively a bribe.
Peter Lowell became the key witness.
I met him once.
He looked ashamed.
“I should have spoken sooner.”
“Yes.”
He blinked.
People expected victims to make everyone feel better.
I had stopped doing that.
“But you’re speaking now,” I added.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“Then help finish it.”
He did.
By late summer, the civil case was moving rapidly.
Dalton’s attorneys requested settlement.
The offer was enormous compared with anything I had ever imagined.
Return of trust value.
Interest.
Share of hidden property.
Compensation.
Legal fees.
Evelyn placed the number in front of me.
“One-point-seven million.”
Naomi nearly fell out of her chair.
I stared.
“Should I take it?”
Evelyn answered carefully.
“It avoids years of litigation.”
“What do I give up?”
“Claims against certain additional assets.”
“Lake house?”
“No. That issue is separate because of Caspian.”
“Seraphine?”
“Separate.”
“Martin?”
“Separate.”
I thought about Dad.
Money can be replaced.
A home can be rebuilt.
“Can Dalton afford this?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He’s liquidating partnership interests and investment accounts he failed to disclose originally.”
I almost laughed.
The money existed after all.
It had simply never existed for me.
“Take it.”
Naomi stared.
“That easy?”
“No.”
I looked at the number.
“But I don’t want another six years connected to him through a courtroom.”
Evelyn smiled.
“That is a valid reason.”
The settlement was signed two weeks before Caspian left for college.
Dalton arrived separately.
We sat across from each other in a conference room.
He looked older.
For the first time, he didn’t look powerful.
Just tired.
He signed.
Then I signed.
When it was over, he looked at me.
“Miranda.”
I waited.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“That’s all?”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
I believed him.
He had spent years knowing exactly what he wanted.
Status.
Money.
Seraphine.
Control.
Now he had none of them.
“I hope you become better,” I said.
His eyes filled.
“For Caspian?”
“For yourself.”
He looked down.
I left.
Outside, Caspian waited beside Naomi.
He held a cardboard box.
“What’s that?”
“Your celebration dinner.”
I looked inside.
Takeout noodles.
I laughed.
“After two million dollars, we’re eating noodles?”
“Technically one-point-seven.”
Naomi pointed at him.
“See? Valedictorian.”
We ate on my apartment floor because I still hadn’t bought new furniture.
I could afford anything now.
But that evening, nothing felt missing.
Then Caspian’s phone buzzed.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A message from Dalton.
I need to tell you something before you leave.
It’s about Seraphine.
Caspian looked at me.
“I don’t want another secret.”
Neither did I.
But the next message arrived before we could answer.
She wasn’t the one who ordered your mother moved to the back row.
I stared at the words.
May you like
Then another appeared.
I was.
