Chapter 5 - GENERAL BROOKSDominic learned who my father really was on a Thursday morning.
Not because Dad told him.
Because Victoria did what Victoria always did when she felt threatened.
She called someone more important than herself and tried to complain.
Her mistake was calling the wrong person.
Victoria belonged to several charity boards and treated proximity to powerful people like a competitive sport.
One of those acquaintances was Richard Langford, a retired defense contractor who hosted expensive fundraisers and loved reminding people he'd once met cabinet secretaries.
According to what we later learned, Victoria called Richard and said my “vindictive retired civil-servant father” was interfering with Dominic's company.
She wanted to know if Richard could “make a few calls.”
Then she apparently said Dad's full name.
Charles Everett Brooks.
Richard went quiet.
“Victoria,” he reportedly said, “do you mean General Charles Brooks?”
“No. Charles Brooks. Audrey's father.”
“Yes. General Brooks.”
“What general?”
“The four-star general.”
There are moments when arrogance collapses so completely that the truth feels theatrical.
Victoria Googled Dad.
So did Dominic.
At 9:43 a.m., my phone rang.
Dominic.
I didn't answer.
Then another call.
Another.
Finally a text.
Why didn't you tell me?
I knew immediately.
I stared at the message for a full minute.
Then replied.
You never asked.
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
Your father was a FOUR-STAR GENERAL?
I didn't respond.
You told me he worked for the government.
I finally typed:
He did.
Dad was sitting across from me eating oatmeal.
I showed him.
He smiled.
“Accurate.”
“You enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
Within twenty minutes, Dominic's entire tone changed.
Audrey, we need to approach this maturely.
Then:
I don't want misunderstandings involving your family reputation.
That sentence made me nauseous.
Not our family.
My family reputation.
Meaning now that he understood Dad carried social weight, suddenly I deserved diplomacy.
Then came:
I have always respected your father.
I laughed so loudly I woke Leo.
Dad took my phone.
“Did he write that?”
“Yes.”
“He once asked me whether federal pensions covered dementia care.”
I'd forgotten that.
At Christmas dinner.
Dominic had smiled afterward like he'd made a clever joke.
Dad handed the phone back.
“Apparently my résumé improved his memory.”
But Dad refused to use his former rank as a weapon.
That mattered.
When I asked if he would speak to Dominic, Dad said no.
“This is your legal matter.”
“You could scare him.”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn't that help?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because fear produces compliance, not accountability.”
It was frustrating.
I wanted Dominic afraid.
I wanted him to feel one fraction of the helplessness I'd felt beneath the hospital entrance.
Dad understood.
He just refused to confuse revenge with strategy.
“The courts exist for this,” he said.
“And what if he lies?”
“Then evidence exists for that.”
“What if he threatens me?”
“Document it.”
“What if he comes here?”
“Building security handles it.”
“What if he comes after Leo?”
Dad's expression hardened.
“Then your attorney handles custody, and if he violates the law, law enforcement handles that.”
“You really won't call anyone?”
“No.”
“You know half of Washington.”
“Not half.”
I stared at him.
He shrugged.
“Thirty percent, maybe.”
I threw a pillow at him.
It was the first moment I felt remotely like myself.
Then Rebecca arrived carrying a thick folder.
That ended the laughter.
Megan Price had agreed to speak confidentially.
She worked in finance operations at Dominic's company.
She had kept copies of documents because she believed some accounting practices were improper.
According to Megan, Dominic had raised almost $4 million from investors over eighteen months.
The company wasn't performing well.
Several major clients had left.
Revenue was declining.
But Dominic continued projecting rapid growth.
To keep investors calm, he represented himself as backed by substantial personal assets.
My assets.
“He told people your family wealth guaranteed the downside,” Rebecca said.
“My family wealth?”
“Yes.”
“Dad's?”
“Indirectly.”
She handed me a printed email.
Dominic had written:
My wife's family has deep multigenerational government and institutional connections, and our private assets substantially exceed company liabilities. Audrey has personally committed to maintaining liquidity as necessary.
I read it twice.
“I never committed to anything.”
“We know.”
Dad extended his hand.
“May I?”
I gave him the email.
He read it once and returned it.
His face had become very still.
“What?” I asked.
“He was selling access.”
“To you?”
“To the idea of me.”
Rebecca nodded.
“That appears to be part of the pitch.”
I wanted to throw up.
Dominic had mocked Dad privately while trading on his reputation publicly.
But it got worse.
Megan had found invoices.
Consulting payments.
Travel.
Luxury hotels.
Private clubs.
A watch.
Victoria's condo expenses.
And one recurring payment to a woman named Sabrina Cole.
“Who's Sabrina?” I asked.
Rebecca hesitated.
“That remains unclear.”
The payments totaled $84,000.
My stomach dropped.
“Is he having an affair?”
“We don't know.”
“Eighty-four thousand dollars?”
“Could be legitimate consulting.”
“Do legitimate consultants get monthly transfers labeled 'personal reimbursement'?”
Rebecca gave me a look.
“I said could.”
By afternoon, we knew.
Sabrina Cole was twenty-nine.
Former marketing director.
No longer employed by the company.
She lived in a Tribeca apartment whose lease had been guaranteed by Marchetti Strategic Ventures.
I had spent years telling myself Dominic's late nights were entrepreneurship.
His emotional distance was stress.
The perfume I once smelled in his car was probably from transporting a female client.
The hotel receipt in Boston was a billing error.
Every lie I had helped him explain to me came marching back.
I didn't cry this time.
I felt hollow.
“Do we know how long?”
“Not conclusively.”
“Does it matter?”
Rebecca closed the folder.
“Legally, perhaps not as much as the financial issues. Personally, that's your decision.”
I looked at Leo.
He was sleeping beside me.
Five days old when his father abandoned him outside a hospital.
Seven days old when his mother discovered his father might be an embezzler and adulterer.
Quite an introduction to the Marchetti family.
That evening, Dominic came to Dad's building again.
This time he brought flowers.
And a photographer.
The photographer was waiting across the street.
We didn't know until later.
Dominic stood outside the entrance for nearly an hour.
Eventually he sent me a message.
Please come downstairs. Just five minutes.
Rebecca advised against it.
I agreed.
Then another message arrived.
I'm your husband.
Then:
Leo needs his father.
Then:
Your dad's military status doesn't scare me.
That one was almost funny.
Nobody had threatened him with Dad's military status.
Dominic was fighting a battle entirely inside his imagination.
Finally, he sent:
Tell General Brooks I'm not intimidated.
Dad read it.
“Well, that's reassuring.”
I stared at him.
“You're enjoying this way too much.”
“I'm retired. Entertainment is expensive.”
Ten minutes later, the doorman called.
“General Brooks?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Marchetti says he's not leaving unless he speaks to you.”
Dad looked at me.
“Your decision.”
I thought about it.
Then nodded.
“Go.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
Dad put on his jacket.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“No threats.”
“No threats.”
“No old general voice.”
“What is old general voice?”
“The one that makes grown men reconsider their careers.”
“No promises.”
“Dad.”
He smiled.
“Kidding.”
Dad went downstairs alone.
Later, he told me exactly what happened.
Dominic was standing beneath the awning, holding roses.
The photographer across the street was taking pictures.
“General Brooks,” Dominic began.
“Charles is fine.”
“I didn't realize—”
“That I served?”
“Yes.”
“You never asked.”
Dominic swallowed.
“I think Audrey is getting bad advice.”
“She's receiving legal advice.”
“I mean emotionally.”
“From whom?”
“You.”
Dad apparently stared at him for several seconds.
“I haven't told my daughter whether to remain married to you.”
“But you hate me.”
“I don't know you well enough to hate you.”
That hurt Dominic more.
He lowered his voice.
“This is between my wife and me.”
“Correct.”
“So tell her to come home.”
“No.”
“You just said you weren't interfering.”
“Refusing to order my adult daughter home isn't interference.”
“She's vulnerable.”
“Yes.”
“She just gave birth.”
“Yes.”
“She's not thinking clearly.”
Dad stepped closer.
This was the only part of the conversation where, according to him, his tone changed.
“When my daughter tells you no, Dominic, she is thinking clearly enough for that word to matter.”
Dominic's face reddened.
“You don't understand our marriage.”
“No.”
“She exaggerates.”
“Maybe.”
“She agreed to those investments.”
“Then you'll have documents proving it.”
Dominic froze.
Dad saw it.
“You're investigating me.”
“No.”
“My lawyer is going to—”
“Good. Get one.”
“You think your rank means you can destroy me?”
Dad shook his head.
“My rank means nothing here.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I want my daughter healthy. I want my grandson safe. What happens to your business depends on what you've done, not who I used to be.”
Dominic looked toward the windows above.
Then he said something that made Dad stop.
“Audrey doesn't understand what she's started.”
Dad's face hardened.
“What does that mean?”
Dominic immediately backed away from the sentence.
“Nothing.”
“No. Explain it.”
“I just mean divorce gets ugly.”
Dad stared at him.
“Then perhaps you should work very hard to make sure you don't.”
Dominic left.
The photographer captured the entire interaction.
By morning, photographs appeared on a gossip website.
The headline:
FINANCE ENTREPRENEUR IN TENSE CONFRONTATION WITH DECORATED GENERAL FATHER-IN-LAW
Dominic had apparently planned to photograph himself arriving with flowers so he could portray me as the unreasonable wife refusing reconciliation.
Instead, the article identified my father.
Then it identified me.
Then it mentioned Dominic's startup.
That was when his investors started Googling.
By 10:00 a.m., three had called the company demanding information.
By noon, a board member asked for an emergency review.
At 12:37, Megan sent one more message.
Dominic is deleting files.
Rebecca stood immediately.
“What kind?”
Megan answered.
Financial records. Investor communications. Anything mentioning Audrey.
Rebecca picked up her phone.
For the first time, Dad didn't tell her what to do.
He didn't need to.
Dominic thought learning Dad was a four-star general was the worst surprise of his week.
It wasn't.
May you like
The worst surprise was discovering that deleting evidence doesn't make trouble disappear.
Sometimes it turns financial misconduct into something much more serious.
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