CHAPTER 4 — The Video Ethan Never Knew Existed
Silence.
Five hundred people stared at me.
No one clapped.
No one spoke.
Even the orchestra had stopped playing.
Ethan recovered first.
He forced out an awkward laugh and stepped toward me with the practiced confidence that had carried him through years of television interviews.
"Madison," he said into the microphone, "I think emotions are getting the better of you."
A few uneasy chuckles rippled through the room.
He turned toward the audience.
"My wife has always been passionate about her work."
"I apologize if—"
"No."
I interrupted.
"You don't get to apologize for me anymore."
His smile stiffened.
The cameras immediately zoomed in.
I could see reporters whispering to one another.
This wasn't the elegant fundraising gala they had expected.
This was becoming the biggest society scandal Texas had seen in years.
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Please don't do this here."
"Then where?" I asked.
"At home?"
"The home where you spent twenty-two months pretending to work late while sleeping with another woman?"
Gasps erupted across the ballroom.
Sophia instinctively stepped backward.
Ethan's face drained of color.
"You're making accusations without proof."
I smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
I looked toward the audiovisual booth.
"Michael."
The head technician nodded.
Every screen inside the ballroom suddenly lit up.
At first it showed security footage from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.
Date.
Time.
Arrival Terminal C.
There was Ethan.
Holding white tulips.
Waiting.
Then Sophia appeared.
The audience watched the embrace.
The flowers.
The kiss on her forehead.
The way Ethan lovingly carried her suitcase.
No one breathed.
The footage ended.
Then another clip began.
A luxury hotel lobby.
Different date.
Different week.
Ethan and Sophia checking in together.
Another clip.
A medical conference in Chicago.
Only one hotel room reserved.
Another.
A beach resort in Florida.
Hands intertwined.
Vacation photos.
Restaurant receipts.
Hotel invoices.
Flight records.
Twenty-two months.
Twenty-two months of carefully documented lies.
Ethan stared at the screens in horror.
"How..."
His voice cracked.
"How did you get those?"
"I own an event company."
I answered calmly.
"I hire investigators before trusting anyone with million-dollar weddings."
"When I started feeling something was wrong..."
"I hired one for my own marriage."
The ballroom erupted into whispers.
Several doctors quietly moved away from Ethan.
One donor shook his head in disbelief.
Then someone began clapping.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Harold Carter.
Ethan's father.
The retired Marine stood from the front table.
"I didn't raise my son to become this man."
Every eye turned toward him.
Ethan whispered,
"Dad..."
Harold refused to even look at him.
"I don't know you anymore."
May you like
For the first time all evening...
Ethan looked afraid.
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