Chapter 7: The Call She Didn't Expect
I didn't go straight back to the house on the hill. Instead I drove to the old neighborhood where Victoria and I had first rented an apartment after the wedding. Tiny place. One bedroom. View of a brick wall. Back then it felt like freedom. Now it just looked small.
I parked two streets over. Walked the rest of the way. Hood up against the late afternoon chill. Nobody noticed me. Nobody ever did in places like this.
The building hadn't changed. Same chipped paint on the doorframe. Same flickering bulb in the hallway. I climbed the stairs to the third floor. Stopped in front of 3B. The brass numbers were still crooked.
I didn't knock. Just stood there a minute. Listening.
Inside I heard movement. Drawers opening. Closing. A soft curse under her breath.
She was home. Packing probably. Getting ready to leave the city for the weekend like she always did when things got tense. Some spa upstate. Or her mother's house in the Hamptons. Places where problems felt smaller if you drank enough rosé.
My phone was already in my hand. I opened the app Harlan had installed. The one tied to the burner line we'd set up. Anonymous. Untraceable. I hit call.
It rang twice.
She picked up on the third.
"Hello?"
Her voice sounded thinner than usual. Tired.
I didn't speak right away. Just let the silence stretch.
"Who is this?"
Still nothing.
"If this is some kind of prank—"
I spoke then. Low. Calm. Voice pitched just enough to sound familiar but not enough to be obvious.
"You got the dollar."
A sharp intake of breath.
"Ethan?"
I let her hear the smile in my silence.
"How did you… where are you calling from?"
"Doesn't matter."
She laughed. Nervous. "This isn't funny. If you're trying to scare me—"
"I'm not trying anything. I'm just collecting what's owed."
Another pause. I could picture her standing in the middle of the living room. Box half-packed on the couch. Phone pressed to her ear like it might burn her.
"Owed?" she repeated. "You think I owe you something? After everything?"
"Two million. Give or take. Plus interest."
She went quiet so long I thought she'd hung up.
Then: "That's insane. You were the one who—"
"Who what? Stole? That's what you told everyone. That's what you put in the police report. That's what you used to justify kicking me out of my own home."
Her breathing quickened. "It wasn't like that. You know it wasn't."
"Do I?"
"Ethan, listen to me. Whatever you think you know, whatever you're doing… stop. Before you ruin everything."
I leaned against the wall outside her door. Close enough to hear her footsteps pacing inside.
"Ruin everything," I echoed. "Like you ruined five years of my life?"
She let out a shaky breath. "I didn't ruin anything. You were never going to be enough. You know that. Deep down you always knew."
The words landed. Not like a punch. Like a dull blade. The kind that hurts more because it's slow.
I kept my voice even. "You're right. I wasn't enough for the life you wanted. The one with private jets and boardroom power plays. The one where you sleep with the man who's about to buy your failing company."
Silence again.
Then she whispered, "How do you know about Daniel?"
"I know a lot of things now."
She laughed again. This time it cracked. "You're bluffing. You're nobody, Ethan. You always were."
"Maybe I was. But nobody's got a long memory when you owe him."
I heard her drop something. A book maybe. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
"Ethan… please. If this is about money, we can talk. We can work something out."
"Too late for talking."
"Then what do you want?"
I thought about it. Really thought.
"I want you to feel what I felt. Every day. Every insult. Every time you looked through me like I wasn't there. Every time your mother called me trash in front of guests. Every time you came home smelling like someone else."
Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was scared. I didn't know how to—"
"Sorry doesn't fix it."
She started crying then. Quiet sobs. The kind she hated people hearing.
"I never wanted to hurt you like that. I just… I thought you'd always be there. That you'd take it. That you loved me enough to stay no matter what."
"I did."
"And now?"
"Now I don't."
She sobbed harder.
I listened for a minute. Let it sink in.
Then I said, "Check your email."
I hung up.
Inside the apartment I heard her gasp. Footsteps rushing to her laptop.
I didn't wait to hear the rest.
I walked down the stairs. Out the building. Back to the Audi.
My phone buzzed before I even started the engine.
Harlan.
She just opened the attachment. The full forensic report on the transfers. Including timestamps. IP addresses. All pointing to her personal office computer. Not yours.
She's on the phone with her mother again. Screaming this time.
I started the car.
Drove away slowly.
The sun was setting now. Sky turning orange over the rooftops.
I didn't feel triumph. Not yet.
Just a quiet certainty.
The house of cards was shaking.
And the wind was only getting stronger.
By the time I reached the hill, night had fallen.
The lights in the house were warm. Welcoming.
I parked. Got out.
Harlan met me at the door.
"She's calling lawyers," he said. "Trying to trace the email. Won't find anything."
I nodded.
"She'll try to run tomorrow. Booked a flight to the Hamptons. First class. One way."
"Let her."
He looked at me. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
I walked past him. Into the study.
Fire going again. Scotch waiting.
I poured a glass. Sat in the leather chair.
Looked at the city lights far below.
Somewhere down there, Victoria was falling apart.
Piece by piece.
And I hadn't even started the real work yet.
I raised the glass.
To new beginnings.
Then I drank.
Slow.
Steady.
The night stretched out ahead.
Full of things she never saw coming.
And I had all the time in the world to make sure she felt every single one.