Chapter 13 - THE MARRIAGE AFTER THE MONEY
I found Ethan sitting on my porch twenty minutes later.
His car was parked crooked.
He looked ten years older.
“She left.”
“Where?”
“Her sister’s again.”
I sat beside him.
For a while we watched cars pass.
Finally he said,
“I blamed you.”
“I know.”
“I wanted it to be your fault.”
“I know that too.”
“Why didn’t you fight me?”
“You were already fighting yourself.”
He laughed weakly.
“That sounds like Dad.”
“I learned from him.”
Ethan wiped his eyes.
“She says I never stood up for her.”
“Did you?”
“Sometimes.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He stared at the street.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she was exhausting when she got angry.”
There it was.
Not love.
Fear.
Arthur had seen it clearly.
“He wrote that about me, didn’t he?”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“In the letter.”
I said nothing.
“He said I was weak.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I hesitated.
Then decided he had earned some truth.
“He said you were too easily led by whoever you were most afraid to disappoint.”
Ethan stared ahead.
“That’s worse.”
“No.”
“It feels worse.”
“Maybe because it’s accurate.”
He laughed once.
Then covered his face.
“I let her insult you at Dad’s funeral.”
“Yes.”
His shoulders shook.
“I knew it was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I just wanted the day to end.”
“So did I.”
He looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
That was the first apology that mattered.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because there was no excuse attached.
No “but.”
No “she was upset.”
No “you should understand.”
Just sorry.
I took his hand.
“I accept that.”
He squeezed my fingers.
“What happens to the loan?”
“You repay it.”
He looked surprised.
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“You to forgive it.”
“No.”
A sad smile appeared.
“Dad would’ve.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
That smile disappeared.
“Then maybe this is better.”
“Maybe.”
He looked toward the house.
“What happens to Brittany?”
“Employment-wise?”
“Yes.”
“She was terminated for policy violations, dishonesty during the review, and participation in improper transactions.”
“Can she be arrested?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her to be?”
“That is not my decision.”
“But what do you want?”
I thought about it.
“I want the facts to decide.”
He nodded.
A week later, outside counsel concluded Brittany had not created the return scheme.
Darren had.
But she knowingly helped after discovering the transactions were improper.
She also accepted cash from him.
Whether she understood where the money came from remained disputed.
Law enforcement continued reviewing it.
Bellamy & Rowe recovered most of the merchandise.
Darren faced charges months later.
Brittany was not charged with theft.
She did, however, sign an agreement to return the five thousand dollars and cooperate with investigators.
Her luxury-fashion career ended quickly.
Word travels.
Ethan filed for a legal separation.
Not because I told him to.
I never did.
He started therapy.
Also not because I told him.
That surprised me.
Then one afternoon, almost two months after Arthur’s funeral, my doorbell rang.
Brittany stood outside.
No designer bag.
No perfect makeup.
No confidence.
Just Brittany.
“Can I come in?”
I should have said no.
Instead I stepped aside.
She walked into the living room and stopped when she saw Arthur’s photograph.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
“That’s broad.”
“I know.”
She turned.
“I was horrible to you.”
“Yes.”
“I was horrible to customers.”
“Yes.”
“I thought money made people important.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“And then I found out you had more than anyone I knew.”
I waited.
“And you still drove that stupid old Honda.”
I almost smiled.
“Careful.”
She laughed through tears.
“I deserved that.”
She sat.
“I hated you.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“Why?”
“Because Ethan always talked about how steady you were.”
I frowned.
“He did?”
“All the time.”
She looked down.
“You never seemed impressed by anything I bought.”
“I wasn’t.”
“That drove me crazy.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were judging me.”
“Sometimes I was.”
She nodded.
Then she said,
“At the funeral, I wanted to hurt you.”
That mattered.
“Why?”
“Because Darren had shown me the ownership chart.”
“And?”
“And I realized everything I thought made me special…”
Her voice broke.
“…belonged to you.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“I worked at the glamorous store.”
“You owned it.”
“I knew fashion.”
“You helped design collections.”
“I thought Ethan and I were more successful than you.”
“You and Arthur had built everything before I was born.”
She looked ashamed.
“So I attacked the one thing I thought I could still win at.”
“My appearance.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Ugly.
Petty.
Human.
“And now?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“Now I know I didn’t win anything.”
I nodded.
“No.”
She stood.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
Her eyes filled.
“I just wanted to say I was sorry.”
She reached for the door.
Then stopped.
“Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“The dress really was beautiful.”
I looked down.
I wasn’t wearing it.
She smiled sadly.
“I mean the funeral dress.”
“I know.”
She left.
Two minutes later, my phone rang.
Patricia.
“Margaret, you need to come to headquarters.”
“What happened?”
“Arthur left something.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“A sealed directive.”
“For whom?”
“You.”
“When was it supposed to be opened?”
May you like
Patricia took a breath.
“After the investigation involving Darren was resolved.”
