Chapter 12 - THE NIGHT I COULDN'T REMEMBER
I laughed.
It sounded almost hysterical.
“I killed my father?”
“No.”
Marcus remained calm.
“But your name appears on the pharmacy pickup.”
“I picked up medication for him all the time.”
“Do you remember doing it that week?”
I tried.
Eight years ago.
Hospital visits.
Rain.
My father exhausted.
Me sleeping beside his bed.
Pieces.
But one entire evening was strangely blank.
“I don’t remember.”
Marcus nodded.
“That may matter.”
“Why?”
“Because David’s records show he met you that afternoon.”
My skin went cold.
“I barely knew David then.”
“You met him at Kensington Capital.”
Memory returned in flashes.
A conference room.
Coffee.
David saying Dad had forgotten medication at work.
An envelope.
“Did he give it to me?”
“We think so.”
My stomach turned.
I had carried the medication home.
My father later took it.
“I gave it to him.”
“You delivered a sealed prescription you believed was legitimate.”
“But—”
“Sophia.”
Ethan’s voice came from the doorway.
I hadn’t known he was there.
Marcus had apparently called him.
I stood.
“Why is he here?”
“Because I requested documents from Cole Dynamics.”
Ethan stayed near the door.
He looked thinner.
The last two weeks had aged him.
“You didn’t kill your father,” he said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because David did the same thing to you.”
I stared.
“He used other people’s hands.”
That sentence settled heavily over the room.
David had used Khloe.
Used Ethan.
Used me.
Used pharmacists.
Used attorneys.
Everyone became a tool.
That did not make every tool innocent.
But intent mattered.
I sat down.
Ethan did not come closer until I nodded.
Then he sat beside me.
Not touching.
Just there.
“I carried the pills home,” I whispered.
“You loved him.”
“Yes.”
“You believed you were helping.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t let David rewrite that.”
I looked at him.
“You sound like my husband.”
Pain moved across his face.
“I still am legally.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
For several seconds we looked at each other.
Then Marcus cleared his throat.
“There’s another development.”
Of course there was.
David had finally disclosed the account containing missing funds.
$186 million.
Frozen.
Recoverable.
Enough to stabilize both Kensington Capital’s affected funds and Cole Dynamics.
“Ethan could avoid bankruptcy,” Marcus said.
I looked at him.
Ethan shook his head.
“Not if the money belongs to Kensington.”
“It partly belongs to Cole.”
“How much?”
“Approximately fifty-three million.”
That changed everything.
His company might survive without my rescue.
The rest would require restructuring.
Hard losses.
But survival.
Ethan exhaled.
Then his phone rang.
Khloe.
He showed me the screen.
Did not answer.
I appreciated that more than I wanted to.
Then my own phone rang.
My mother.
“Sophia, turn on the television.”
I did.
Khloe Vane stood outside a courthouse surrounded by reporters.
Her face was tear-streaked.
Her lawyer beside her.
A caption appeared:
FORMER COLE ASSOCIATE MAKES SHOCKING CLAIM.
Khloe leaned toward the microphones.
“Ethan Cole knew his wife was being declared legally dead.”
I stopped breathing.
Reporters shouted.
She continued.
“He asked me to help him do it.”
I turned slowly toward Ethan.
His face had gone white.
On television, Khloe held up a phone.
“I have messages proving it.”
Ethan whispered, “They’re fake.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then Khloe read one aloud.
A message allegedly sent from Ethan.
Once Sophia is legally gone, everything becomes easier.
The date was eight months ago.
Before Ethan claimed the affair began.
Before my fake death.
Before everything.
I looked at him.
“Tell me the truth.”
He stared at the television.
May you like
Then said the last thing I expected.
“That message is real.”
