During our first dinner, he asked what my father did.
When I told him he owned an auto repair shop, Charles smiled.
“Honest work.”
His voice suggested otherwise.
“What does your mother have to do with Camille?” I asked.
“Everything.”
Ethan picked up the envelope and flipped over the café photograph.
“Taken three weeks ago.”
“My mother hired someone to follow me.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because she learned I was investigating Dad’s estate.”
He paused.
That pause hurt more than the photographs themselves.
“You told me your father left everything to your mother.”
“He did.”
“So what were you looking for?”
My stomach tightened.
“What trust?”
Ethan leaned back and rubbed his face.
“Six months ago, a law firm in Vermont contacted me at work. They represented a woman named Camille, who believed Charles was her biological father.”
I waited.
“You took a DNA test?”
“Not immediately.”
“Then how did she have proof?”
“She matched with one of my cousins.”
He looked at me.
Camille’s mother, Evelyn, had worked for one of the Bennett companies nearly thirty years earlier.
According to Camille, she and Charles had carried on a relationship for several years.
Camille had been born eleven months before Ethan.
“Did your mother know?” I asked.
“She knew about the affair.”
“She told me she didn’t.”
“You talked to her about this?”
His eyes drifted toward our wedding photo in the hallway.
“That’s exactly what she hoped you wouldn’t tell me.”
A cold weight settled in my chest.
“No. I’ve been waiting for her to make a move.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ethan lowered his eyes.
“Because Camille asked me not to.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“She was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I pushed the photographs toward him.
“Your mother came into my home after refusing to attend our wedding. She made me promise not to tell you she’d been there. Then she handed me pictures meant to convince me you were cheating.”
“And somehow I’m still the last person anyone thinks deserves the truth.”
His face tightened.
“You’re right.”
I hadn’t expected that.
I expected excuses.
“You’re right. I should have told you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because if Camille was telling the truth, it meant my father had built our family on another lie. If she wasn’t, I didn’t want to drag you into it.”
“You don’t protect me by keeping me in the dark.”
“I know.”
There was no defensiveness.
That didn’t erase my anger.
It only made it harder to hold on to.
I pointed to one picture.
“The office building?”
“I was meeting an estate attorney.”
“The park?”
“Camille had just discovered her mother destroyed most of Dad’s letters.”
“The restaurant receipt?”
“Dinner with Camille and Evelyn.”
“And Vermont?”
“I went there for the DNA test.”
Every suspicious detail suddenly made sense.
That didn’t erase the secrecy.
“What trust were you looking into?” I asked.
Ethan unfolded one of the papers Lorraine had brought.
“How much?”
“We don’t know.”
“Your mother does.”
He looked at me.
That was when I finally understood why Lorraine had come.
She knew I’d confront him.
She wanted us fighting before he could finish uncovering the truth.
“She knew exactly who Camille was,” I said.
Ethan nodded.
“I think she did.”
“That sounds like her.”
I stood.
“Call her.”
“Right now?”
“She tried to use me to destroy our marriage. Yes.”
He dialed and put the phone on speaker.
“Why did you go to my house?”
Silence.
Then Lorraine answered.
“I was worried about your wife.”
“Is she there?”
“I am,” I said.
She sighed.
“I hoped she’d study the photographs before speaking to you.”
“So I’d accuse him before hearing the truth?”
“Camille is Dad’s daughter,” Ethan said.
The line went quiet.
Not surprised.
Caught.
We both heard it.
“You knew.”
