Chapter 9 - My Father’s Version of Love
My father met us at Whitmore House.
No attorneys.
No Samuel.
No security.
Just him.
He looked smaller than he had two days earlier.
I remained standing.
Ethan stood near the door.
Dad looked at him.
“I owe you an apology too.”
Ethan laughed.
“Get in line.”
Dad accepted it.
Then he looked at me.
“I knew Victor was trying to bring Cole Meridian into the family.”
“You knew he targeted me.”
“I suspected.”
“Wrong.”
I threw a printed email onto the table.
Thomas had given it to us.
Victor to Jonathan.
Subject: Ethan/Mary introduction confirmed.
My father closed his eyes.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop it?”
“Your mother asked me not to.”
That caught me.
“Mom knew before we met?”
“No.”
“Then stop hiding behind her.”
He nodded.
Fair.
“I found out three weeks after Boston.”
“And did nothing.”
“I investigated Ethan.”
“You investigated him while I dated him.”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because you were happy.”
I laughed.
“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I know.”
“You let me build a life on a lie because I was happy?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Then Eleanor discovered Ledger Four.”
My anger paused.
“Go on.”
“She realized your relationship created an opportunity.”
“For what?”
“To recover control of Cole Meridian.”
There it was.
My parents had used me too.
Maybe with different intentions.
Maybe with love.
Still used me.
“Mom built the stabilization trust.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me get engaged.”
“Yes.”
“So the two of you decided the relationship that began as a trap could become your trap.”
He looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Ethan stared at him.
“You used my company.”
Dad snapped.
“You used my daughter.”
Neither had moral ground.
That almost made me laugh.
“What happened before Mom died?”
Dad sat down.
“She found evidence Richard Mercer had manipulated the Cole restructuring.”
“And?”
“She confronted Victor.”
“We know.”
“She was going to expose everything.”
“Then why didn’t she?”
“I asked her to wait.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because disclosure would have destroyed Whitmore too.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“So you asked her to keep quiet.”
“For forty-eight hours.”
“Why does everybody in this family think forty-eight hours can fix criminal behavior?”
He flinched.
“I needed time.”
“To hide things?”
“To protect employees and pension funds.”
“Of course.”
Every cowardice came dressed as responsibility.
“Did you see Mom that night?”
“No.”
“Speak to her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two thirty.”
“Her call.”
Dad looked surprised.
“You know?”
“She said, ‘You have until sunrise.’”
His eyes filled.
“That was me.”
“What did she mean?”
“She gave me until sunrise to choose.”
“Between?”
“Her and the company.”
Silence.
“What did you choose?”
He looked at me.
“Her.”
For once, I believed him.
“I called Samuel at two forty.”
“To do what?”
“Prepare disclosures.”
“Then?”
“I drove to the house.”
“What time?”
“Three twenty.”
“After she was found.”
“Yes.”
“Who called you?”
“Richard.”
My skin went cold.
“Richard told you she collapsed?”
“Yes.”
“So he admitted being there.”
“No.”
“He said the housekeeper found her.”
“The housekeeper didn’t arrive until seven.”
Dad stared.
He had never known.
Richard fabricated the discovery.
“Why didn’t you question it?”
“I was looking at my wife on the floor.”
His voice broke.
For the first time in three years, I saw the man who found the woman he loved dying.
Not the chairman.
My father.
I sat.
He covered his face.
“When doctors said aneurysm, I believed them.”
“Did Mom have an autopsy?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She had a known vascular weakness.”
That was true.
Mom had undergone monitoring.
Her death had been medically plausible.
Which made it perfect.
Ethan spoke.
“If Richard was there…”
Dad looked at him.
“He had opportunity.”
My phone rang.
Daniel.
“We found him.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“New Jersey.”
“Alive?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
“Why did you hesitate?”
“Because somebody got to him first.”
My stomach turned.
“What happened?”
“He’s in a hospital.”
“And?”
Daniel took a breath.
“He keeps repeating one sentence.”
“What?”
“Mary already married the wrong man.”
I looked at Ethan.
May you like
Daniel continued.
“But I don’t think he means Ethan.”
