Chapter 9: The Reckoning
Gerald Marsh's office smelled of old paper and coffee.
He was a small man in his late sixties with reading glasses on a chain and the unhurried manner of someone who had seen a great many urgent situations and understood that urgency, while real, was rarely as useful as precision.
Ethan sat across from him.
Richard sat to his left.
Claire sat to his right.
Margaret's neighbor's daughter — a solicitor named Frances Webb, who handled family law and looked about forty and entirely unimpressed by anything — sat at the end of the table with a yellow legal pad.
Ethan laid everything out in order.
The security footage, transferred to a laptop.
The letter in Sophia's handwriting.
The notebook.
The bank statements, printed that morning.
A written summary of his phone call with Patrick Alderton, who had already emailed Frances Webb's office to confirm he would provide a formal statement.
Gerald Marsh read the letter twice, slowly, without expression.
Frances Webb watched the security footage once, made two notes, and looked up.
"The police complaint she filed last night," Frances said.
"Do you have the reference number?"
"Yes." Ethan slid a piece of paper across the table.
Frances picked it up.
"I'll contact the officer handling it this morning.
Given the footage and the letter, the complaint is unlikely to proceed.
But we need to get ahead of it formally rather than wait for them to come to you."
"She threatened to go to the press," Ethan said.
Frances didn't look alarmed.
"With what, specifically?"
"She said she knew things about my father that would destroy him."
"Does she?"
Richard shook his head.
"No."
Frances made a note.
"Then it's a pressure tactic.
It may still cause short-term noise.
We can prepare a response in advance if needed." She paused.
"Has she contacted you since last night?"
"One text.
I told her to go through my solicitor."
"Good.
Keep it that way." Frances set her pen down.
"Mr.
Whitmore — Ethan — I want to be direct with you.
The picture here is clear.
The footage alone would be significant.
Combined with the letter, the prior pattern from the Alderton marriage, and the financial records, you have a very strong position." She paused.
"But I want you to understand what this process looks like.
It will not be fast.
It will not be quiet.
And Sophia will fight it."
"I know," Ethan said.
"She may try to negotiate.
She may offer to drop the police complaint in exchange for a financial settlement."
"No."
Frances looked at him steadily.
"I want to make sure you've thought about that.
A settlement would be faster and less—"
"She did this to Patrick Alderton," Ethan said.
"He let it go.
She did it again.
To my father." He paused.
"No settlement."
Frances held his gaze for a moment.
Then she picked up her pen.
"All right," she said.
"Then let's build the case."
---
Sophia called at eleven.
Ethan was in the car park outside Gerald Marsh's office.
He answered because Frances had told him to keep a record of any direct contact.
"I want to talk," Sophia said.
Her voice was composed.
Almost warm.
"You can speak to Frances Webb.
I'll give you her number."
"Ethan.
Please.
This has gone too far.
I made a mistake.
I panicked." A pause.
"I love you.
Whatever you think of me right now, I love you.
We can fix this."
He stood in the car park and looked at the grey sky.
"The police complaint," he said.
"Drop it today."
"I will.
I'll drop it today.
I just need you to—"
"Drop it today, Sophia.
Unconditionally.
Not in exchange for anything."
Silence.
"And then," he said, "speak to Frances Webb."
"Ethan—"
"That's all I have to say."
He ended the call.
May you like
He stood for a moment in the quiet car park.
Then he walked back inside to where his father and his sister were waiting.
