That evening Vivian messaged:
You could at least respond.
Ethan laughed once.
He still said nothing.
On day four, the doorbell camera alerted him.
A courier stood outside with flowers.
Vivian’s name on the card.
Ethan almost threw them away unopened.
Instead he photographed the card for no reason he could explain.
I know you’re angry. I still believe we can come through this stronger. —V
He placed the flowers on the kitchen counter.
By evening they irritated him.
He moved them to the garage.
On day five, Rebecca called.
“You need to see me.”
“Why?”
“We received an email from opposing counsel.”
Ethan froze.
“Vivian hired a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“She hasn’t been served.”
“That does not prevent representation.”
“How does she know I filed?”
“Public docket.”
“Or she expected you might.”
Ethan drove to Rebecca’s office.
The email requested financial disclosures, preservation of company records, and temporary access to the residence if Ethan attempted exclusion.
“I haven’t changed locks.”
“Good.”
“She’s already lawyering up.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“So are you.”
“She told me this was space.”
“She can call it whatever she likes.”
“She moved money before leaving.”
“We’ll address it.”
Rebecca slid another page across the desk.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Her lawyer disclosed that Vivian may claim the forty-two thousand was a business investment.”
“In what?”
“They haven’t said.”
Ethan looked at the page.
“If it was her business money, why move it from our joint brokerage?”
“Question for discovery.”
On his way home, Ethan received a message from an unknown number.
Mr. Hale, my name is Tessa Grant. I believe my husband has been involved with your wife. I’m sorry to contact you like this. I think we should speak.
Ethan pulled into a gas station.
Read it again.
Then a third time.
He did not call immediately.
He forwarded it to Rebecca.
Her response:
Do not engage emotionally. If you speak, assume anything you say could become evidence. But yes, this may be relevant.
Ethan hated how quickly a marriage became evidence.
He called Tessa.
Her voice was controlled.
Too controlled.
That made him trust her more.
“Thank you for calling.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“Who is your husband?”
“Mason Grant.”
The name meant nothing for two seconds.
Then everything.
Mason Grant owned Grant Development Partners.
Commercial real estate.
Vivian had organized their annual investor retreats for years.
Ethan had met him.
Several times.
Tall.
Forty-five.
Married.
Two teenage daughters.
Always charming.
Always too comfortable touching people’s shoulders while speaking.
Ethan sat perfectly still.
“How long?”
Tessa exhaled.
“I can prove six months.”
The exact number Vivian gave him.
Six months thinking.
Ethan closed his eyes.
Tessa continued.
“I suspect longer emotionally.”
“Physical?”
“Since April.”
The first Corwin charge.
Ethan pressed one hand against his forehead.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because I confronted Mason yesterday.”
“And?”