Chapter 6: What a Mother and Son Say When the Room Is Finally Empty
Ethan found a small sitting room off the main hallway — a quiet space with two chairs and a window that looked out over the side garden.
He closed the door behind us.
The noise of the party became a low murmur on the other side of the wall.
He sat down across from me and put his elbows on his knees.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"How long have you known?" he finally said.
"About Vanessa specifically?
Three weeks." I settled back in the chair.
"About the Mitchells' interest in the merger?
Six weeks."
Ethan looked up.
"You think they're connected."
"I think George Mitchell's company has been in serious financial trouble for fourteen months.
I think the merger with Carter Holdings would resolve most of it.
And I think Vanessa began pursuing you approximately sixteen months ago." I watched his face.
"You do the math."
He was quiet for a long time.
"I loved her," he said.
Not I love her.
Loved.
Past tense, already.
"I know you did."
"I thought she was—" He stopped.
Started again.
"She was different with me.
At least I thought she was."
"She may have been, in her way." I leaned forward slightly.
"That doesn't change what she is."
Ethan stood up and walked to the window.
His reflection looked back at him from the dark glass — jacket still damp at the knees, champagne-less for the first time all evening.
"Why didn't you just call me?" he said.
"Why come here like this?
Why the secondhand clothes, the grocery bag — why put yourself through that?"
"Because if I had called you, you would have defended her." I said it gently.
"And if I had arrived as myself, they would have performed for me.
I needed to see what they do when they believe there are no consequences."
He turned from the window.
"And the recording."
"And the recording."
He crossed his arms.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"That depends on what they do next." I watched him.
"Vanessa was on her phone as I walked past the window.
She was typing quickly.
I don't know who she was contacting, but I'd like to."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"You think she's not done."
"I think she came to this engagement with a plan, and I interrupted it.
People with plans don't simply stop." I held his gaze.
"She said something to you across the room.
Before she stepped back.
What was it?"
He was quiet.
"Ethan."
"She said—" He pressed his lips together.
"She said that if the engagement ended, she would tell people you had fabricated the recording.
That you had always hated her and had been looking for a reason to destroy the relationship." He looked at the floor.
"She said she had her own evidence."
The room was very still.
"Evidence of what?" I said.
"She didn't say."
I sat with that for a moment.
"All right," I said.
"All right?" He looked up.
"Mom, she's threatening you."
"She's frightened," I said.
"Frightened people reach for whatever they can find." I stood up from the chair.
"But she made one mistake."
"What?"
"She told you about it." I straightened the borrowed jacket.
"Which means she wanted you to tell me.
She's hoping I'll hesitate." I picked up my grocery tote from beside the chair.
"I won't."
Ethan watched me for a moment.
Then, quietly: "I'm sorry.
For what happened on the lawn.
I should have been there."
"You didn't know I was coming."
"That's not—" He stopped.
"I should have told her more about you.
I should have made sure she understood—"
"Ethan." I put my hand on his arm.
"You are not responsible for what she chose to do.
That is hers." I squeezed once and let go.
"What happens next is ours."
He nodded.
Outside the sitting room, a door opened somewhere in the mansion.
Footsteps moved quickly down the hallway — more than one person, moving with purpose.
Ethan and I looked at each other.
The footsteps stopped outside our door.
Then George Mitchell's voice came through the wood, low and controlled.
"Ethan.
We need to talk.
May you like
All of us.
Now."
