Chapter 4 - The Price of a Secret
Ethan appeared at the kitchen entrance,
his eyes darting between me and Chloe.
He could sense the shift in the atmosphere.
The air was no longer filled with the scent of breakfast;
it was filled with the smell of a bridge burning.
"What’s going on?"
he asked,
his voice tentative.
Chloe immediately ran to him,
clinging to his arm.
"Ethan,
she’s threatening me!
She said she’s going to ruin you!
She’s going to tell your boss everything!"
Ethan’s gaze snapped to mine,
sharp and accusatory.
"Mabel,
you wouldn't.
That’s my career.
That’s our livelihood."
"Our livelihood?"
I repeated,
the irony tasting like copper in my mouth.
"You forfeited the right to use the word 'our' the moment you signed that first check for her.
You chose her over your career the moment you decided to embezzle—yes,
Ethan,
let’s call it what it is—company resources to buy her affection."
"It wasn't embezzlement!"
he shouted,
his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"It was a loan!
I was going to pay it back!"
"With what money?"
I asked,
stepping into his personal space,
ignoring Chloe as if she were a piece of furniture.
"The money you don't have because you spent it all on her?
Or the money you thought you’d get from the divorce settlement you assumed I’d blindly sign?"
He stayed silent,
his jaw clenching so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
I looked at Chloe,
who was still clinging to him,
though her grip seemed less like a hug and more like a desperate attempt to stay anchored to a sinking ship.
"Is this the man you wanted,
Chloe?
A man who risks his entire future for a girl he’s already bored of?
Because believe me,
once the money is gone,
once the prestige is gone,
he won't be looking at you with love.
He’ll be looking at you and seeing the reason he lost everything."
Chloe looked at Ethan,
searching his face for a denial,
for a promise,
for anything.
But Ethan was looking at the folder in my hand.
He was a businessman,
after all.
He was finally doing the math,
and the numbers weren't adding up in his favor.
"Mabel,"
he said,
his voice dropping to a plea.
"Let’s go back upstairs.
Let’s talk about this privately.
We can work something out."
"There is no 'we,'
Ethan.
There is only the exit."
I turned my back on them and walked to the front door.
I felt lighter than I had in three years.
The weight of the waiting was gone,
replaced by the cold,
invigorating clarity of revenge.
"I’m leaving,"
I said,
without turning around.
"My lawyer will be calling your office at nine a. m.
sharp.
I suggest you spend the rest of the morning deciding which of you is going to tell the board about the missing funds."
I opened the door,
and the morning air hit my face,
fresh and biting.
"Oh,
and Ethan?"
I paused,
looking back one last time.
"The breakfast she made?
May you like
It looks disgusting.
You always preferred my cooking anyway."
