Chapter 1 - THE QUESTION HE COULDN'T ANSWER
“Were you?”
My husband stared at me across the dining table.
Twenty-two people waited.
The photographs remained scattered between crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and half-eaten dinners.
Ethan Wycliffe opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
I had been married to him for three years.
I knew that expression.
He was calculating.
Not whether to tell the truth.
Whether the truth would cost him more than another lie.
“Maren,” he said quietly, “this isn't the time.”
I nodded.
“Then I'll ask your father.”
Warren Wycliffe sat at the head of the table, his face unreadable.
“Mr. Wycliffe, did your company authorize Ethan to travel to Pittsburgh on September eighteenth?”
Warren turned toward his chief financial officer, Daniel Mercer.
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Sir, I believe the travel request was canceled.”
Ethan's head snapped toward him.
“Daniel.”
Warren lifted one hand.
Daniel continued.
“The steel supplier confirmed the issue had been resolved that morning. There was no reason for Mr. Wycliffe to travel.”
Silence.
I looked at Ethan.
“So you lied.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Maren, please.”
I glanced at the photograph.
The hotel suite.
The Manhattan skyline.
Celeste's red nails.
Then I looked toward the financing agreement.
“Did you charge that trip to the waterfront project?”
Ethan went completely still.
That was my answer.
Warren leaned forward.
“Ethan.”
His voice was quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
“Answer your wife.”
Ethan swallowed.
“It was a business expense.”
I smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
Celeste frowned.
“What does that mean?”
I turned toward her.
“It means you may have just provided evidence of financial misconduct.”
Her smile disappeared.
I picked up the photograph.
The date.
The hotel.
The room.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“Please preserve all travel and entertainment expense records associated with September eighteenth.”
Daniel nodded immediately.
“Yes, Mrs. Wycliffe.”
Ethan slammed his hand on the table.
“Enough!”
I looked at him.
“Are you upset because I discovered the affair?”
He stared.
“Or because I discovered how you paid for it?”
Nobody moved.
Then Warren spoke.
“Ethan. Sit down.”
My husband froze.
“Dad—”
“Sit.”
Ethan obeyed.
Warren turned toward me.
“Maren, what do you need?”
I looked at the black portfolio.
Then closed it.
“An independent audit.”
Curtis Wycliffe leaned forward.
“That's unnecessary.”
I smiled.
“Then you should have no objection.”
Curtis went pale.
Warren looked at him.
Then at Ethan.
Finally, he turned back to me.
“You have my authorization.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Then I stood.
Celeste stared.
“That's it?”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You're not going to say anything about us?”
I smiled.
“Oh, Celeste.”
I picked up my handbag.
“You've already said everything I needed.”
Then I walked out of the dining room.
Behind me, Warren Wycliffe's voice thundered:
May you like
“ETHAN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
For the first time in three years, I didn't turn around.
