Chapter 8
The next morning, I went to see Martha.
My father offered to come with me.
I told him no.
This was something I had to do alone.
She lived in a luxury condo on the Upper West Side.
Ethan had bought it for her three years ago.
With my family’s money.
She opened the door wearing a silk robe.
Her hair was done.
Her makeup was perfect.
She’d been expecting me.
“Emily,” she said, stepping back. “Come in. I made coffee.”
The apartment was beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the park.
Original art on the walls.
Furniture that cost more than most houses.
All of it paid for with lies.
“You knew,” I said. No hello. No small talk.
Martha sat down on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap.
The same gesture her son used when he was about to lie.
“I knew Ethan was ambitious,” she said carefully. “I knew he was using his connection to your father to advance his career. What parent wouldn’t want that for their child?”
“You knew he was stealing. You knew he was cheating. You knew he was forging documents. You helped him hide the money.”
“Your family has more money than you could spend in ten lifetimes,” she said, her voice hardening. “Ethan deserved a piece of that. He worked hard. He played the game. You think any of those executives got where they are by being nice? Business is war, Emily. And my son won.”
“He didn’t win. He’s about to go to prison for twenty years. You’re about to lose everything in this condo. The bank accounts are frozen. The government is seizing the property. You’re going to end up right back where you started—in that tiny apartment in Queens with nothing.”
Martha’s face twisted.
“You think you can take this from me? I earned this! I raised him alone! I worked three jobs to put food on the table while your mother sipped champagne and went to galas! I suffered so he could have everything! And you—you just handed it to him on a silver platter because you were too stupid to see what was right in front of your face!”
She stood up.
“You think you’re better than me? You were born on third base and you think you hit a triple. Ethan had to climb every inch. And if he had to step on a few people to get to the top? That’s just how the world works.”
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
I saw Madison in her.
The same hunger.
The same rage.
The same belief that the world owed them something.
“You’re right about one thing,” I said. “I was stupid. I trusted the wrong people. I let my husband and my mother-in-law steal from me for ten years because I wanted to believe the best of them.”
I walked to the door.
“But here’s the difference between you and me, Martha. When I fall, I get back up. When you fall? You stay down. Because you never learned how to build anything real. You only know how to take.”
I left her standing there in her beautiful, empty apartment.
The FBI was waiting outside.
They went in to serve the seizure warrant.
I didn’t look back.
Two days later was our tenth wedding anniversary.
I spent the day with my lawyers.
The divorce papers were ready.
The financial records were compiled.
The criminal case against Ethan was moving forward.
That evening, there was a knock at the door.
I checked the security camera.
Ethan.
He looked terrible.
He’d been in jail for forty-eight hours.
His mother had bailed him out that morning.
His clothes were wrinkled.
He hadn’t shaved.
His eyes were hollow.
I opened the door.
The security team was right behind me.
“I just want five minutes,” he said. “Please. After that, I’ll never bother you again.”
I nodded to the guards.
They stepped back but stayed within earshot.
Ethan walked into the apartment he’d lost.
He looked around like he was seeing it for the last time.
Which he was.
“I saw the videos,” I said. “All of them. Seven years. Every conversation with your mother. Every plan with Madison. Every time you laughed about how easy I was to manipulate.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“I was an idiot,” he whispered. “I was so scared of going back to being nothing that I became everything I hated. I looked at you and I saw everything I could never be on my own. And instead of being grateful, I was angry. Angry that you had it so easy. Angry that I needed your father to succeed.”
He opened his eyes.
Tears were streaming down his face.
“I did love you once. In Brooklyn. Before the money and the titles and the lies. That kid who worked three jobs to buy you a ring? He was real. He just died somewhere along the way. And I let him.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Our wedding rings.
He’d taken them when he’d packed his bag.
He set them on the entry table.
“I’m pleading guilty,” he said. “All charges. No trial. No deals. Madison’s going away for a long time. My mother’s going to lose everything. And I deserve whatever happens to me.”
He paused.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Not for forgiveness. I don’t deserve that. Just so you know. I know what I took from you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to pay it back. Even if I never can.”
He turned to leave.
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
“The boy from Brooklyn,” I said quietly. “I miss him too.”
He didn’t turn around.
May you like
He walked out the door.
And this time, I knew he wasn’t coming back.
