He crouched, scratched her ears, and laughed for the first time I'd heard since the rooftop. The sound made me ache. For a dangerous second I wanted to ask him to come back, just for a weekend, just to prove there was still some piece of our old life available. Instead I asked whether June had finished her medication, and he told me the vet wanted one more week.
We spoke about food, rain, and the fact that Pepper had destroyed a toy in twelve minutes. Then Ethan stood, held both leashes, and said goodbye. I watched him walk toward his truck and felt the unfamiliar pride of having respected a small boundary. It was a very small achievement compared with the harm I'd caused, but learning to stop myself from taking more comfort than I was offered had to begin somewhere.
The financial review reached a preliminary conclusion in February. The independent accountants determined that Ryan's firm had submitted invoices for services that were insufficiently documented and had attempted to redirect portions of expected event revenue through an unauthorized vendor. Some requests were blocked, and others had been paid under the agreement I signed before their scope was properly examined. The findings did not suggest Ethan had participated or authorized a sale. They did show that I had failed to exercise the oversight expected of an owner.
The report was painful to read because it refused to make me either hero or villain. It stated what the records showed: my signature had enabled access, and Ryan's firm had used that access in ways we had not approved. Dana's insistence on documentation had limited the losses. Ethan's refusal to proceed without verified agreements had prevented the project from advancing further. Every sentence made visible an ordinary professional safeguard I had dismissed because it interfered with the future Ryan described.
Priya explained that some money might be recoverable through a negotiated settlement or civil action, but there would be costs and no promise of a complete recovery. I agreed to contribute my proportional share of the expenses associated with the permissions I had granted, as the parties and accountants determined. I didn't offer to pay every debt out of guilt; that would have made the process another emotional performance and might have been unfair to people whose rights were also involved.
The more difficult question was what to do with my ownership interest in Alder Street Sound. It had been a genuine contribution to the business, made years before the affair, and my work had helped build its bookings. I had once expected Ethan to offer to buy it at a discount so that I could move forward quickly. Instead he insisted on an independent valuation and terms that protected the studio's operating cash flow.
"I don't need you to give away your work as an apology," he said during a meeting with our lawyers. "I need us to separate our work from the damage we've done to each other."
I understood that he was offering fairness, not affection. We eventually agreed on a structured buyout to be paid over time, with protections for Alder Street's staff, the educational program, and both owners. It was less dramatic than the financial freedom Ryan had promised me, but every number could be traced to something real. For the first time I felt relief at a deal that did not require anybody to believe an impossible story about the future.