Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO HELD THE MONEY
My name is Maren Ellsworth Wycliffe.
Thirty-two years old.
Managing partner of Ellsworth Meridian Partners.
And until that evening, I had believed my marriage was difficult but salvageable.
Ethan and I met five years earlier at a real estate conference in Boston.
He was charming.
Ambitious.
Handsome in the effortless way wealthy men often are.
I was twenty-seven, running a growing private investment firm my father had founded before his death.
We fell in love quickly.
Or at least I did.
Ethan said he admired my intelligence.
My independence.
My ability to walk into a room full of older businessmen and make them listen.
He proposed after eighteen months.
I accepted.
Our wedding took place at a private estate overlooking the Atlantic.
Three hundred guests.
White roses.
A string quartet.
A dress my mother cried over.
I thought I was marrying my best friend.
Then the Wycliffe company began struggling.
A series of bad acquisitions.
Rising construction costs.
Debt.
And a waterfront redevelopment that required more financing than anyone expected.
My firm stepped in.
Not because Ethan asked.
Because the project was commercially promising.
We invested carefully.
With conditions.
Independent oversight.
Financial reporting.
Restrictions on related-party transactions.
And an audit requirement before additional funding.
Ethan hated those conditions.
At first, he pretended otherwise.
Then he began calling them unnecessary.
Insulting.
Evidence that I didn't trust him.
I told him trust and financial governance were different things.
He disagreed.
Now, standing in my office the morning after the dinner, I understood why.
Ethan hadn't simply wanted my money.
He wanted access to it without questions.
My phone rang.
Warren Wycliffe.
I answered.
“Good morning.”
His voice sounded tired.
“Maren.”
“Mr. Wycliffe.”
A pause.
“I'm sorry about last night.”
I looked toward the city.
“Thank you.”
He sighed.
“Ethan embarrassed himself.”
I said nothing.
“And he embarrassed this family.”
I turned.
“Mr. Wycliffe, the affair is personal.”
“Yes.”
“The expense records are not.”
Silence.
Then Warren said quietly, “I understand.”
I looked at the financing portfolio.
“The eighteen-million-dollar amendment is suspended pending audit.”
A pause.
Then:
“That's fair.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I realized Warren Wycliffe might be the only person in that family who understood what his son had risked.
