“And if she refuses?”
“She won’t. She still thinks love means doing what she’s told.”
Nobody moved.
Ethan shot to his feet.
“Turn that off!”
Martin paused the recording.
“Sit down, Mr. Reeves.”
“That was private.”
“It was recorded in George Harper’s office,” Martin said. “On his personal phone. Mr. Harper was present during the conversation.”
Then he pressed play again.
Caleb’s voice came through the speaker.
“My restaurant debt gets cleared. Mom gets the house. Ethan, you said Lydia signs whatever you put in front of her.”
Then Ethan answered.
“After the funeral, she’ll be too broken to fight us.”
A few seconds later, Dad’s weak voice came through.
“Ethan… did you marry my daughter because of my money?”
Silence.
Then Ethan replied,
“George, don’t make this dramatic.”
Martin stopped the recording.
Ethan turned toward me.
The charming expression he had worn for years was gone.
“Lydia, listen to me. Your father misunderstood everything.”
I shook my head.
“No. He finally understood everything.”
I picked up the folder beside me and slid it across the table.
Inside were copies of credit applications opened with my forged signature.
Emails Ethan had exchanged with a property appraiser.
Messages from Marjorie referring to me as “the key to the Harper vault.”
Ethan stared at the pages.
“Where did you find these?”
“Our printer.”
I turned another page.
“Our shared cloud storage.”
Then another.
