Chapter 8: The Freeze
Grace called on Wednesday morning.
"The emergency freeze went through," she said.
"The Delaware account is locked.
He cannot move, transfer, or access those funds."
I was at work.
I stepped into the corridor and pressed my back against the wall.
"All of it?" I asked.
"Two hundred and thirty-one thousand.
The remainder was already disbursed before we filed, but we have documentation of where it went.
We'll recover it through the settlement."
"He knows?"
"His attorney was notified an hour ago." A pause.
"He called me directly afterward.
Ethan, not the attorney.
He called my personal line."
"What did he say?"
"He said you were making the biggest mistake of your life.
That he had done everything for you.
That without him, the trust would have been mismanaged and depleted anyway." Her voice was dry.
"He also said he still loved you."
I looked at the wall across from me.
A fire safety notice.
A small scuff mark at shoulder height.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I told him to communicate through his attorney and ended the call."
"Grace."
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," she said.
"He's going to escalate.
The freeze is a significant blow.
People like Ethan don't absorb significant blows quietly."
She was right.
By Thursday, he had contacted three of our mutual friends — people who had been at the wedding — and told each of them a different version of events.
One was told that I had known about Daniel for months and used the wedding as a public humiliation tactic.
One was told that Renata was a mentally unstable former girlfriend who had fabricated the documents.
One was told that Lacey had confessed to engineering the entire cake incident and that I was simply her unwitting cover.
I found out because all three of them called me.
The first call I took.
The second I let go to voicemail.
The third I listened to standing in my kitchen, then set the phone face-down on the counter.
He was trying to rebuild the story from the outside in.
I called Grace.
"He's contacting witnesses," I said.
"I know.
His attorney sent a letter this morning claiming that your public display at the reception constitutes defamation and that he intends to file." A beat.
"He won't.
It's a pressure tactic.
But document every contact he makes with third parties.
Dates, what was said, who told you.
Send it to me."
"Lacey's attorney called you?"
"This morning.
She's prepared to give a full statement.
The timeline she has — when Ethan disclosed Daniel's existence to her, the specific language he used, the call he made the morning after the wedding asking her to discredit you — that's significant." Grace's voice was careful.
"Claire.
I need to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Is there anyone else?
Anyone who might have known something and stayed quiet.
A friend of Ethan's, a colleague, anyone who was close to both of you."
I thought about it.
There was one person.
Ethan's older brother, Marcus.
He had been at the wedding.
He had shaken my hand at the reception, kissed my cheek, told me I looked radiant.
He had not looked at Ethan once the entire evening.
"His brother," I said.
"Marcus.
I don't know what he knows.
But he was strange at the reception.
Distant."
"Do you have contact information for him?"
"I have his number from when we were planning the rehearsal dinner."
"Send it to me," Grace said.
"Let me reach out."
I sent it.
Then I went back to work and sat at my desk and tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of me.
My phone buzzed.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*This is Marcus.
Grace Holloway just called me.
I've been waiting for someone to call for a long time.
I know things Ethan doesn't know I know.
Tell her I'll meet with her tomorrow.*
May you like
I read it twice.
Then I forwarded it to Grace without a word.
