Mark looked at her, then at Ethan, then at me—trapped. “I was under pressure,” he muttered. “I needed money. I was building my life—”
“Your life,” Ethan repeated, almost laughing. “You built it with what belonged to me.”
Ethan stood up. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to repay every dollar, with interest. You’re going to sign a legal confession. And you’re going to stay away from my mother. If you don’t, my attorneys file today, and I make sure the story becomes public record.”
Mark’s shoulders slumped. The confidence drained out of him like someone pulled a plug. Amber backed away from him, disgust settling in her eyes.
When we left the building, the Texas sun hit my face and I realized I could breathe again. Ethan didn’t look triumphant—he looked free.
In the car, he glanced at me. “Mom… I’m sorry you carried that alone.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You turned pain into power,” I whispered. “And you did it without becoming him.”
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