Chapter 6 - The Night Ethan Lost Everything
The recording was six years old.
Ethan and I had been married for barely four months.
I pressed play again.
Grant spoke first.
“Has he changed the flight?”
Ethan answered.
“No. Ten-thirty departure.”
My hands went numb.
Grant said, “And Martin?”
“Not traveling with him.”
“Good.”
Then Ethan:
“You said nobody gets hurt.”
The recording went silent for three seconds.
Grant answered.
“Nobody needs to.”
I stopped the file.
I could not continue.
Martin looked sick.
“He knew about your father’s flight.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
I couldn’t finish.
I hated myself for defending him.
Even now.
Martin said carefully, “We need law enforcement.”
“Not yet.”
“Lydia.”
“If Grant sabotaged my father’s plane—”
“We don’t know that.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded reluctantly.
“We preserve everything first.”
The rest of the drive back to my mother’s house passed in silence.
Marissa was gone.
Security said she left voluntarily twenty minutes earlier.
That frightened me.
“Did she say where?”
“No.”
I called her.
Straight to voicemail.
Then Ethan called.
I declined it.
Again.
Again.
A message arrived.
WE NEED TO MEET. ALONE.
Another:
GRANT LIED TO ME TOO.
Another:
I CAN PROVE I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THE CRASH.
I showed Martin.
“He knows what was on the drive.”
“How?”
“Grant.”
My phone rang again.
This time I answered.
“Where are you?”
Ethan breathed heavily.
“My office.”
“Grant?”
“Gone.”
“Marissa?”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“She was here.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“She came looking for Grant.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Grant take her?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“Stop yelling at me.”
He went quiet.
Then:
“I’m scared.”
I had never heard Ethan admit fear.
“Of what?”
“Grant.”
“You worked with him.”
“I thought I was using him.”
I almost laughed.
“That sounds like you.”
“He promised me access to investors your father kept away from Ashford.”
“So you gave him company access.”
“Limited access.”
“For two years?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
“I met Grant before your father died.”
My breath stopped.
“But I didn’t know who he was.”
“You just happened to discuss Dad’s flight schedule?”
“He told me he represented investors who wanted a private meeting with your father.”
“Why didn’t you ask Dad?”
“Because your father hated me.”
“He didn’t hate you.”
“He looked at me like I was temporary.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“Maybe he was smarter than both of us.”
Ethan absorbed that.
“I gave Grant the departure time. That’s all.”
“And Dad died the next morning.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever tell investigators?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Grant told me if I did, they’d think I was involved.”
“You should have told me.”
“I was twenty-nine. I was terrified.”
“You were my husband.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Silence.
Then:
“I can show you something.”
“What?”
“Meet me at Hawthorne Ridge.”
“No.”
“Lydia, please.”
“Send it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s hidden in the house.”
“Where?”
“Your father’s study.”
My father had never lived at Hawthorne Ridge.
The estate became ours after his death.
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a room behind the library wall.”
I remembered renovations.
Ethan had insisted on preserving the old woodwork.
“I found it after we bought the house.”
“And you never told me?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“You lie so automatically you don’t even hear yourself anymore.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
“But there’s a safe inside.”
My heart accelerated.
“What safe?”
“Your father’s.”
“How do you know?”
“His initials.”
I looked at Martin.
He heard.
“Don’t go,” he whispered.
Ethan continued.
“Grant wants whatever is inside.”
“And you?”
“I want this over.”
“Too late.”
“Lydia, please. Bring police. Bring Martin. Bring whoever you want. Just come.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because I think Marissa found the room.”
We went with security.
Not because I trusted Ethan.
Because I trusted evidence.
Hawthorne Ridge looked different when we returned.
Party decorations still hung inside.
A deflated balloon rolled across the marble floor.
Cake sat abandoned.
One tiny paper birthday hat lay upside down near the staircase.
I almost cried.
Ethan waited in the library.
His tie was gone.
His shirt wrinkled.
No bourbon now.
He looked ten years older.
Martin stood beside me.
“Show us.”
Ethan pushed a section of shelving.
It moved.
Behind it sat a narrow passage.
At the end was a steel door.
Initials:
R.V.
Robert Vale.
Dad.
Ethan said, “I found it three years ago.”
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“And never opened it?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“No combination.”
Martin examined the keypad.
“Biometric.”
He looked at me.
Of course.
My fingerprint unlocked it.
Inside the small room were shelves filled with archive boxes.
A desk.
A safe.
And one framed photograph.
Me at twelve years old.
Dad and me fishing.
My throat closed.
Ethan looked away.
The safe opened with my fingerprint too.
Inside sat a handwritten ledger.
A recorder.
And a sealed envelope.
LYDIA — IF GRANT COMES BACK.
I opened it.
The letter was short.
Grant is not after money.
He is after proof.
Years ago, I discovered a network of illegal transactions tied to people far more dangerous than either of us understood. I retained evidence. Grant believes destroying it will save him.
It will not.
The evidence is stored in duplicate.
If you are reading this, give everything to Martin.
Do not negotiate.
Do not protect anyone because you love them.
Especially Ethan.
I stopped.
Ethan stared at the floor.
“Why did he write that?”
I looked at him.
“You tell me.”
The recorder contained one final conversation.
Dad and Ethan.
My heart pounded as Ethan’s younger voice filled the room.
Dad said:
“If Grant ever approaches you again, you tell Lydia.”
Ethan answered:
“I will.”
Dad:
“Promise me.”
Ethan:
“I promise.”
The recording ended.
Ethan covered his face.
“I was ashamed.”
“You were selfish.”
“Yes.”
“You let me spend six years believing Dad died in an accident while knowing someone had been asking about his flight.”
“I didn’t know Grant caused it.”
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
“I know.”
For the first time, Ethan did not defend himself.
Then Martin’s phone rang.
Police.
The evidence we had forwarded had triggered immediate action.
Grant Mercer had been located.
At a private airfield.
Preparing to leave the country.
But he wasn’t alone.
Martin looked at me.
“What?”
His voice was quiet.
“Marissa is with him.”
Ethan stood.
“Did he take her?”
Martin listened.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
My stomach turned.
“What do you mean?”
“Airport security footage shows her arriving voluntarily.”
My phone buzzed.
A video message.
From Marissa.
I opened it.
Her face filled the screen.
She had been crying.
“Lydia, I’m sorry.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“I need to tell you the truth before they find me.”
May you like
Then she said five words that stopped everyone in the room.
“I knew Grant before Ethan.”
