Chapter 6 - Dad Strikes First
By Monday morning, Dad’s attorneys released a statement.
They accused Ethan of using privileged legal information to target the family of his fiancée.
They called the wedding interruption a publicity stunt.
They claimed the thirty guests had been recruited to intimidate an elderly businessman.
Dad was sixty-two and played tennis four times a week.
But suddenly he was elderly.
A complaint was filed with the state Bar against Ethan.
Until the complaint was reviewed, his supervisor removed him from two active cases.
Ethan came home carrying a cardboard box from his office.
I met him at the door.
“What happened?”
“Administrative leave.”
My anger became immediate.
“Because of Dad?”
“Because the Bar has to review the complaint.”
“But the evidence is real.”
“That doesn’t mean I followed every rule perfectly.”
I stared.
“What rule did you break?”
“I discussed parts of the investigation with Caleb before formally documenting him as a source.”
“Is that serious?”
“It can look serious.”
“Did you reveal client information?”
“No.”
“Did you fabricate evidence?”
“No.”
“Then fight.”
He placed the box down.
“I will.”
But his face showed something else.
Fear.
Not of losing money.
Of losing the work that defined him.
Dad had called him a nobody because Ethan did not earn much.
Now Dad was trying to take away the reason Ethan accepted that low salary.
I called Mom.
“Tell Dad to withdraw the complaint.”
“I tried.”
“What did he say?”
“That Ethan declared war.”
“No.”
“Dad did.”
Mom lowered her voice.
“He says if you support Ethan publicly, he’ll remove you and Caleb from every family trust.”
I almost laughed.
Dad was using money again.
The only language he believed everyone understood.
“Tell him to do it.”
“Maya…”
“Tell him.”
That afternoon, I issued a statement.
Not as Ethan’s wife.
As former communications director of the Whitmore charity.
I confirmed that I had seen records raising serious questions about the fund.
I demanded an independent audit.
I also stated that my marriage would not determine whether the evidence was true.
Dad called immediately.
“You ungrateful little girl.”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“You’ve destroyed this family.”
“No.”
“I stopped helping you hide what you did.”
He became quiet.
Then said:
“You think Ethan loves you?”
“Yes.”
“He loves being the poor hero who married money.”
“Then why did he sign a prenuptial agreement giving up every claim to mine?”
Silence.
Dad had not known.
Ethan had insisted on the agreement months earlier.
Dad finally whispered:
“He’ll leave when you’re no longer useful.”
“Maybe.”
“But if he does, that will be his failure.”
“Not mine.”
I ended the call.
Then Ethan entered the room holding a letter.
May you like
The Bar had scheduled an emergency hearing.
And Dad had named me as a witness against my own husband.
