Chapter 6 - The Toast Jason Never Finished
Charles Benton did not come inside.
He refused.
“I’ve spent three years entering places I had no business entering,” he said. “I’m done with that.”
He handed me the envelope on the porch.
Mom stood beside me.
Sophie remained inside with Noah.
Grandma Ruth watched from the doorway.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Insurance.”
“For you?”
“For the truth.”
I looked at him.
“Who hired you?”
“Your father.”
“You followed me for a year.”
“Yes.”
“You followed my wife while she was pregnant.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He wanted documentation.”
“Of what?”
“Your relationship. Marriage. Pregnancy. Birth.”
“For the trust?”
“That was my assumption.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I was paid not to ask.”
At least he didn’t pretend to be noble.
“Why contact us now?”
He looked toward Mom.
“Because Robert stopped paying me six months ago.”
I laughed without humor.
“So this is revenge.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Guilt took longer.”
He looked at Sophie.
“I scared your wife.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“You lied to her?”
“No.”
“Jason did.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I drove him to the hospital.”
That stunned me.
“He hired you?”
“No. Robert asked me to keep an eye on him.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Robert knew Jason intended to speak to Sophie.”
Everything became even uglier.
Dad had known.
Not afterward.
Before.
“You could have stopped him.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Benton looked down.
“Because I was being paid by your father, not by my conscience.”
At least he said it plainly.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were copies of emails.
Photographs.
Invoices.
One notarized statement.
And the paternity affidavit.
Except this version was blank.
No signature.
Attached to it was an email from Matthew Pruitt.
If E.C. can be persuaded to sign, this preserves options. If not, we need another route before birth registration.
I felt nauseated.
“What does that mean?”
Benton answered.
“They wanted Sophie to sign an acknowledgment creating uncertainty about paternity.”
Sophie stepped onto the porch.
“They wanted me to say Ethan might not be the father?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I ever do that?”
Benton looked uncomfortable.
“Jason believed he could convince you Ethan had been unfaithful.”
My hands curled.
Sophie touched my wrist.
I forced them open.
“So the hospital lie was step one.”
“Yes.”
“And when it failed?”
“They abandoned that route.”
“Did Dad know?”
Benton looked at me.
“Yes.”
Mom made a broken sound.
“No.”
Benton turned to her.
“You were copied on one email.”
Her face collapsed.
“I never opened it.”
“You were copied.”
“I didn’t know.”
He shrugged.
“I can only tell you what exists.”
Mom leaned against the porch railing.
I looked through the documents.
There were invoices totaling almost $31,000.
Surveillance.
Background checks.
Records requests.
Photographs.
Three years of my life reduced to billable hours.
Then I found the final page.
A handwritten note from Dad to Benton.
Jason cannot know I’m ending this. He’s become obsessed with the succession.
I looked up.
“When was this written?”
“Eight months ago.”
Before Noah’s birth.
Dad had finally decided to stop.
Too late to erase what he had done.
But perhaps not too late to understand there was a second problem.
Jason.
“Why did you keep following us after Dad ended it?”
Benton looked at me.
“I didn’t.”
Sophie frowned.
“I saw your car two months ago.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“You own that sedan.”
“I own two.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who had the other?”
He looked toward Mom.
“Jason.”
The front door opened behind us.
Grandma Ruth said one word.
“Of course.”
That afternoon, I called Margaret again.
I told her we had evidence.
She agreed to meet Saturday morning despite the holiday weekend.
Before we could leave, Dad called.
I ignored it.
He called again.
Then Mom’s phone.
Then Sophie’s.
Finally, Grandma Ruth answered hers.
“What?”
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“No. Don’t touch anything.”
She hung up.
I looked at her.
“What happened?”
“Jason broke into Robert’s office.”
Mom gasped.
“What?”
“Robert caught him removing documents.”
I grabbed my coat.
Sophie stopped me.
“Ethan.”
“I’m not taking Noah there.”
“I know.”
“I need to see what he took.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Stop deciding that protection means leaving me behind.”
That landed.
I nodded.
“You’re right.”
Grandma stayed with Noah.
Mom rode with us.
When we reached my parents’ house, Dad was in the driveway.
His lip was bleeding.
I got out.
“What happened?”
“Jason shoved me.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“What did he take?”
Dad held up a ripped folder.
“Copies of trust records.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“Try again.”
Dad looked toward Mom.
Then me.
“He thinks the trust should be his.”
“Yes, we established that.”
“No.”
Dad shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“He thinks I promised it to him.”
“Did you?”
Dad closed his eyes.
There it was.
“Dad.”
“I told him if things remained as they were, I would try to make sure he managed the properties.”
“That sounds like a promise.”
“I never said they would be his.”
“He heard what you wanted him to hear.”
Dad wiped his lip.
“I made a mistake.”
I laughed.
“A mistake?”
“I was afraid you’d take over and sell everything.”
“You never asked me.”
“You moved away.”
“Forty minutes!”
“You weren’t involved.”
“Because you never involved me.”
Dad had no answer.
Sophie stood beside me.
Then headlights turned into the driveway.
Jason’s truck.
He parked aggressively and got out.
Mom whispered, “Oh no.”
Jason walked toward us.
He had been drinking.
Not falling-down drunk.
But enough.
“Great.”
He laughed.
“Everybody’s here.”
I kept my distance.
“Where are the documents?”
“What documents?”
“Don’t.”
He smiled.
“You know what your problem is, Ethan?”
“I have several guesses.”
“You think being quiet makes you better than everybody.”
“No.”
“You do.”
He pointed at Sophie.
“And she thinks she won.”
Sophie stared at him.
“This isn’t a competition.”
He laughed.
“It has always been a competition.”
There it was.
The truth.
He looked at me.
“Dad trusted me.”
“Then why are you stealing from his office?”
Dad flinched.
Jason turned toward him.
“You promised.”
“I said I’d try.”
“You said Ethan didn’t care.”
“I was wrong.”
Jason’s face twisted.
“No. You were scared.”
Dad said nothing.
“You told me he’d ruin everything. You said I was the responsible one. You said I was the son who stayed.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Dad had done to Jason what he had done to me.
Different method.
Same control.
He had made one son feel deficient.
The other indispensable.
Then stood between us and called the result family.
Jason pulled a folded paper from his jacket.
“Want to know something funny?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at Sophie.
“I knew about Noah before Ethan did.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
“I saw the pregnancy records.”
My body went cold.
Sophie stepped forward.
“You accessed my medical records?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
He smiled.
“Ask Dad’s investigator.”
Benton had said he didn’t.
Maybe Jason had another source.
Sophie looked sick.
Jason continued.
“I knew you were having a boy.”
I moved between them.
“Enough.”
“No, Ethan. You want truth?”
“Yes.”
“You were always Grandpa’s favorite.”
“What?”
“You didn’t even know.”
His laugh was bitter.
“He talked about you constantly. Ethan this. Ethan that. Ethan understands numbers. Ethan has patience. Ethan will know what to do with the properties.”
I had never known.
Grandpa died when I was twenty-six.
I loved him.
But I had no idea he saw me that way.
Jason’s eyes reddened.
“Then he leaves you control. Dad starts telling me not to worry. Says we’ll fix it. Says I’m the one actually here.”
Dad whispered, “Jason.”
“Shut up.”
Dad went silent.
Jason looked at me.
“So yeah. I wanted you gone.”
That was the first fully honest thing he had said all night.
“I wanted Sophie gone.”
Sophie’s hand found mine.
“I wanted you to stay the sad brother everybody laughed at because if you were that guy, nobody would question why I should have everything.”
His words hung in the cold air.
Then he smiled.
“But you ruined that.”
“How?”
“You got married.”
His gaze dropped to my wedding ring.
“Then you had him.”
He meant Noah.
My entire body tightened.
“Do not talk about my son.”
“Relax.”
“No.”
Jason’s expression changed.
Something darker.
“You don’t even know what I did yet.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“Jason.”
Jason reached into his pocket.
Pulled out his phone.
Opened a video.
Held it toward us.
Sophie gasped.
The footage showed our backyard.
Our house.
Noah’s nursery window.
Recorded from outside our property.
I grabbed the phone.
Jason let me.
“When was this?”
“Six months ago.”
Sophie went pale.
“Before Noah was born.”
Jason nodded.
I looked at the screen.
The camera moved along our fence.
Then stopped near the side gate.
Someone’s hand entered frame.
Holding a key.
Our spare key.
Sophie whispered, “Ethan.”
The video ended.
I looked at Jason.
“Who went into my house?”
He smiled.
Then looked at Dad.
Dad’s face turned white.
Jason took back his phone.
“You all want Thanksgiving truth?”
He stepped toward the front door.
“Fine.”
Inside, the abandoned dinner table was still half set from the night before.
Jason picked up a wineglass.
Raised it exactly the way he had at Thanksgiving.
“To family.”
Nobody moved.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the caller ID.
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
He answered.
Listened.
His face drained.
Then he looked directly at me.
“That’s impossible.”
I took one step closer.
“Who is it?”
Jason backed away.
On the phone, a woman’s voice was loud enough for me to hear.
“Mr. Carter, this is Margaret Ellis. I have reviewed the surveillance evidence.”
Jason stopped breathing.
May you like
Margaret continued.
“And I know who entered Ethan’s house.”
