Chapter 5 - The Other Woman Who Wasn’tI met Samantha Cole in a coffee shop near Lincoln Park.
She was thirty-eight, with dark curly hair and tired eyes.
Not blonde.
Not Mallory Reed.
She looked as nervous as I felt.
“I almost didn’t contact you,” she said.
“Why did you?”
“Because Ethan stopped answering me after your divorce filing.”
She slid a folder across the table.
“I think he intends to blame everything on me.”
I didn’t touch it.
“What is Northstar?”
Samantha exhaled.
“A consulting company that became an investment vehicle.”
“For what?”
“Restaurants. Small hotels. Hospitality projects.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“That’s between you and Ethan.”
Fair.
She continued.
“I met Ethan four years ago. I was working for a regional hotel group. Mallory introduced us.”
There was the blonde woman.
“Mallory Reed?”
“Yes.”
“Were she and Ethan involved?”
Samantha’s eyebrows rose.
“Romantically?”
“Yes.”
“Not that I knew.”
Relief came unexpectedly.
Not because financial betrayal was acceptable.
But because one particular nightmare might not be real.
Samantha opened the folder.
“Northstar was Ethan’s idea. He said he wanted to rebuild after his restaurant failure without using family money.”
I nearly laughed.
Instead, I said, “He used family money.”
Her expression tightened.
“How much?”
“Forty-two thousand.”
Samantha went pale.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
She turned several pages around.
Northstar had investors.
Grant.
Samantha.
Mallory.
Two others.
And Ethan.
“I put in sixty thousand,” Samantha said. “Grant put in considerably more.”
“How much?”
“Ninety.”
That surprised me.
“Where did Grant get ninety thousand?”
“I assumed family.”
I thought of Grant’s modest accounting job.
Something was wrong.
Samantha tapped a document.
“Ethan told us he invested one hundred and twenty-five thousand personally.”
I stared at her.
“Ethan didn’t have one hundred and twenty-five thousand.”
“That’s why your message about forty-two concerns me.”
“I never messaged you.”
“Your attorney’s discovery request did.”
Right.
“So he was taking marital money and pretending it was his investment?”
“Possibly.”
I turned pages.
Northstar wasn’t necessarily fraudulent.
It had legitimate revenue.
One boutique hotel consulting contract had paid nearly $300,000.
The company had acquired small stakes in two restaurants.
Yet Ethan had hidden every dollar from me.
“Why keep it secret?”
Samantha looked uncomfortable.
“He told us you opposed his business ventures.”
I almost choked.
“I funded his last one.”
Her eyes widened.
“He said you refused to support him financially.”
Of course he did.
“He also said your marriage was mostly separate financially.”
“It wasn’t.”
Samantha leaned back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“You must hate me.”
“I met you twelve minutes ago.”
She smiled faintly.
I looked through the documents again.
Then I saw a transfer.
$42,000.
Our exact missing amount.
Deposited into Northstar.
Six days later, $37,500 was transferred from Northstar into Ethan’s private investment account.
Five days after that, $4,500 went toward the condo lease.
My stomach dropped.
“He stole it.”
Samantha didn’t answer.
“He stole our savings and washed it through the business.”
“Claire, I’m not qualified to characterize it legally.”
“But that’s what happened.”
She looked miserable.
“I think so.”
I took photographs and called Julian.
Everything accelerated after that.
Subpoenas.
Depositions.
Bank records.
Business ledgers.
Marcus Bell’s tone became less aggressive.
Then Ethan asked for mediation.
I refused at first.
Julian encouraged me to consider it.
“Listening does not obligate you to settle.”
So three weeks later, Ethan and I sat across from each other in a mediation suite.
He looked different.
Thinner.
Tired.
For once, Lorraine wasn’t beside him.
Neither was Grant.
Just Ethan, Marcus, me, Julian, and the mediator.
Ethan kept looking at my left hand.
Finally, the mediator asked us to identify the central issues.
Property.
Business interests.
Financial dissipation.
House equity.
Then Ethan interrupted.
“I want to save the marriage.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Clearly, that had not been part of the legal strategy.
The mediator looked at me.
“Claire?”
“No.”
One word.
Ethan flinched.
“You won’t even try counseling?”
“We tried.”
“We went three times.”
“We went three times because you quit.”
“You ambushed me in those sessions.”
“By talking?”
“You made me the villain.”
I stared at him.
“We’re not here to retry the marriage.”
He pushed away from the table.
“Then why are we here? So you can take everything?”
Julian started speaking, but I raised a hand.
“I don’t want everything.”
“You took the entire house apart.”
“I took what was mine.”
“You took my home.”
“Ethan, the house is still standing.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, anger rose through the calm.
“You mean I took away the life you thought you were entitled to keep after telling me I could leave it.”
“I was angry!”
“And I was tired.”
“You think that gives you the right to destroy me?”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“You did that part yourself.”
The room went silent.
Ethan stared at me.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me.
“Why did you hide Northstar?”
His face changed.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Once it became successful.”
“Why?”
“Because you never believed in me.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, tears came to my eyes.
That made him stop.
“I paid eighty thousand dollars of debt after your restaurant failed.”
He looked away.
“I supported you when you were depressed.”
Silence.
“I worked while you spent six months figuring out what came next.”
“Claire—”
“I defended you when my father said you were reckless.”
His face hardened.
“Your father hates me.”
“He hated what you did. I defended you anyway.”
I wiped one tear.
“And you rewrote all of that until somehow I became the wife who never supported you.”
Ethan looked down.
For a moment, he had no argument.
Then Marcus requested a break.
In the hallway, I leaned against the wall.
Julian stood beside me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
We returned fifteen minutes later.
Something had changed.
Ethan looked defeated.
Marcus slid a proposal across the table.
Ethan would waive claims to the trust-owned house.
I would waive claims to certain Northstar future earnings.
He would reimburse $42,000 plus interest.
Remaining marital accounts would be divided.
Each party kept personal business interests subject to valuation adjustments.
I read it.
It was closer to fair than I expected.
Then I saw one line.
Ethan wanted the Steinway piano.
I looked up.
“Absolutely not.”
His cheeks reddened.
“It belongs in the house.”
“It belongs to my family.”
“You don’t even play.”
“My grandmother did.”
“That piano means something to me.”
“So did the marriage.”
His mouth closed.
The piano was removed from the proposal.
Mediation ended without final agreement, but we were closer.
Outside, Ethan followed me toward the elevator.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
Julian remained several feet away.
Ethan spoke quietly.
“Did you ever love me?”
The question hit harder than every accusation.
“Yes.”
“Then how can you do this?”
“Because loving you didn’t make staying healthy.”
He swallowed.
“You’re different.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I think this is the first time you’ve had to deal with the part of me that stopped being afraid you’d leave.”
The elevator arrived.
I stepped inside.
Before the doors closed, Ethan said, “My mother was wrong about you.”
I looked at him.
“That was never the problem.”
“What was?”
“You knew she was wrong.”
The doors closed.
Two days later, Grant called me.
I almost declined.
Instead, I answered.
“Claire.”
“What?”
His voice sounded strained.
“I need to tell you something before Ethan does.”
My stomach tightened.
“About Northstar?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The ninety thousand I invested.”
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t mine.”
I closed my eyes.
“Whose was it?”
There was a long silence.
Then Grant whispered:
“Mom’s.”
Lorraine had put ninety thousand dollars into Northstar.
But that still wasn’t the bomb.
May you like
Grant continued.
“And she didn’t know she invested it.”
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