Then he said:
“I ended it.”
I already suspected.
Hearing it still surprised me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
He laughed without humor.
“I should be.”
“What happened?”
“Everything.”
He rubbed his face.
“The lawsuit. Discovery. The texts.”
“You saw them?”
“She showed me some. Then I found others.”
He looked at me.
“Do you know she practiced crying before coming to your office?”
I stared.
“What?”
“The morning we came with Kessler.”
He swallowed.
“I was making coffee. She locked herself in the bathroom. I heard her crying.”
He shook his head.
“I thought she was scared.”
“She was rehearsing.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Different versions.”
“What do you mean?”
“She came out and asked me which sounded more believable.”
I said nothing.
Ethan continued.
“She actually asked whether she should hyperventilate before or after the lawyer gave you the number.”
The beer suddenly tasted awful.
“I thought she was joking.”
“She wasn’t.”
“No.”
He took another drink.
“I spent three years thinking she was emotional.”
He looked at me.
“She’s not emotional, Liam.”
“What is she?”
“Strategic.”
That word was worse.
Then he told me about the inheritance.
Chloe’s $60,000 cash was gone.
The Range Rover lease consumed thousands.
Designer purchases.
Restaurants.
Travel.
Bali.
Wedding deposits.
The watch collection had been pawned for less than half its real value.
“She said once you paid, none of it mattered.”
I stared at him.
“Paid what?”
“The settlement.”
He looked embarrassed.
“She always talked like the seven hundred thousand was guaranteed.”
“It never was.”
“I know that now.”
“She told me we could buy a condo in Boston.”
“I saw that text.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Of course you did.”
Then he revealed something I did not know.
After their relationship began falling apart, Chloe applied for a personal loan.
She listed Ethan as connected to a “joint consulting venture.”
He had never created such a venture.
Correspondence went to an old shared mailing address.
Ethan’s lawyer flagged it.
Whether it amounted to criminal identity fraud would depend on the documents and investigation, but it was enough for Ethan.
“That was the moment,” he said.
“The lawsuit wasn’t?”
“I wanted to believe she was hurt.”
“The fundraiser?”
“I wanted to believe she was desperate.”
“The texts?”
“I wanted to believe Brenda pushed her.”
He stared into his glass.
“Then she used my information for money.”
I understood.
Everybody has a final boundary.
“What are you going to do?”