Chapter 4: What My Father Knew
I stepped into the hallway and pulled the apartment door nearly closed behind me.
"What conditions?" I said.
"Your father left specific instructions," Gerald Foss said.
"He told me to reach out if you ever found Mara Calloway again.
Or if you ever found the children."
My back went against the wall.
"My father knew about the children."
"He knew about the pregnancy.
He didn't know they were quadruplets.
He passed before they were born." A brief pause.
"He also knew what your mother had done.
He didn't know the full extent until very close to the end."
"How close?"
"Three weeks before he died.
He came to my office alone.
He told me your mother had intercepted correspondence between you and Mara.
He told me she had arranged for a letter to be drafted in your name.
He was—" Foss chose his word carefully.
"He was not well by then.
But he was clear."
I stared at the wall across from me.
A small crack ran from the baseboard up toward the ceiling.
"He left something for you," Foss said.
"A letter of his own.
And a separate document.
He asked me to hold both until this moment."
"Can you come to me?
Today?"
"I can be in Manhattan by two o'clock."
I gave him the address of my office and ended the call.
Back inside, Mara was washing the cereal bowls.
The boys had moved to the living room.
I could hear them arguing cheerfully about something — the specific bright noise of children who feel, at least for this moment, safe.
"I need to tell you something," I said.
She turned off the tap.
"My father's private attorney just called me.
My father knew what my mother did.
He found out before he died."
Mara set down the dish towel.
"He left documents," I said.
"I'm meeting the attorney at two."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Your father was always kind to me.
When we were together, before everything — he was the only one in your family who ever looked at me like I belonged there."
"I know."
"Your mother made sure I knew he was the exception."
I met Gerald Foss at my office at two fifteen.
He was older than I expected, with a worn leather briefcase that had seen thirty years of use.
He sat across from my desk and opened the briefcase without ceremony.
"Your father recorded a video statement as well," Foss said.
"He wanted you to hear it in his own voice."
He turned a small tablet toward me and pressed play.
My father's face appeared on the screen.
Thinner than I remembered him at the end.
But his eyes were sharp.
*"Ethan.
If you're watching this, you found her.
Or you found the children.
I hope it's both."*
My throat tightened.
*"I failed you.
I found out what your mother did and I was too ill and too afraid to undo it in time.
I want you to know the letter was not yours.
I saw the original draft.
I recognized it was not your hand.
Your mother told me it was necessary.
That Mara was unsuitable.
That the Cartwright merger required your full commitment."* He paused.
*"I told her she was wrong.
It was the last real argument we had."*
He looked directly into the camera.
*"The documents Foss has for you include the original draft of the forged letter, with the name of the attorney who prepared it.
It also includes a signed statement from me, witnessed and notarized, confirming that the letter bearing your name was not written or authorized by you.
I had it prepared so that if Mara ever needed to establish the truth legally, she could."*
Another pause.
*"I'm sorry I didn't do more.
I'm sorry I waited.
Take care of those children, Ethan.
Whatever it costs you."*
The screen went dark.
Foss slid a folder across the desk.
I opened it.
The original draft of the forged letter was on top, with handwritten margin notes in my mother's handwriting.
Corrections.
Instructions.
The name at the bottom of the draft page was not mine.
It was the name of a junior associate at the family firm.
A man who still worked there.
I looked up at Foss.
"Does my mother know this exists?"
"She knew your father consulted me privately.
She did not know the content of what he left."
I closed the folder.
"She's going to find out I have this."
"Yes," Foss said simply.
"She will."
My phone buzzed.
A text from my assistant.
May you like
*Your mother is in the lobby.
She says it's urgent.*
