Chapter 10: The Reckoning
Ethan was served at his hotel on Friday afternoon.
Daniel called me when it was done.
I was in my kitchen, standing at the counter, looking out at the twelve acres that had been mine before I ever heard Ethan's name.
"It's done," Daniel said.
"Divorce petition, challenge to the adverse possession filing, and a referral package to the DA's office."
"How did he react?"
"His attorney called me within twenty minutes of service.
They want to negotiate."
"Of course they do."
"They're proposing he withdraws the petition voluntarily, waives any claim to the property, and agrees to a clean divorce settlement in exchange for us not pursuing the criminal referral."
I watched a bird land on the back fence and then fly off again.
"What do you recommend?" I asked.
"Honestly?
The criminal referral is not guaranteed to go anywhere.
The DA has discretion.
It could take a year or more.
A negotiated settlement gets you clean title confirmed, the petition gone, and the marriage dissolved without a long fight."
"And what does he get?"
"He walks away without a fraud charge on his record."
I thought about the messages.
*She won't want this anywhere near her professional reputation.* He had been right about so many things about me.
He had been wrong about this one.
"Tell his attorney we'll discuss settlement terms," I said.
"But the referral to the DA stays on the table until we have a signed agreement.
And I want one thing added to the terms."
"What's that?"
"A written acknowledgment.
Signed by Ethan, witnessed and notarized.
That this property was mine.
That he had no claim to it.
That the petition was filed in error." I paused.
"I want it in writing that he was wrong."
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
"That's not standard."
"I know."
"He may push back on it."
"He can push back," I said.
"But if he wants the referral off the table, that's the price."
Three days later, Ethan's attorney called back.
Ethan had agreed to all terms, including the written acknowledgment.
I signed the settlement agreement on a Tuesday morning.
Ethan signed it at his attorney's office across town.
We were not in the same room.
I had not seen him since the morning he left with his laptop bag and his gray jacket and the last honest thing he ever said to me.
Daniel handed me my copy.
I held it for a moment without reading it.
"It's over," he said.
May you like
"Almost," I said.
There was one thing left to do.
