Chương 9
He called again. What do I say?
Lorraine replied: Same as before. She is asleep.
Another message read: She won’t sign the last page.
Lorraine answered: Then no pills until she is calm.
The messages did not identify which pills or which document. Lorraine’s attorney argued they referred to medication management and an insurance authorization. The explanation sounded strained but not impossible.
Marisol advised Natalie to speak with a detective assigned to vulnerable-adult cases. Carla attended the interview at Natalie’s request. Ethan waited outside.
He wanted to hear every word. He also knew his presence changed how Natalie spoke.
The detective did not promise charges. She asked about dates, actions, witnesses, access to medication, and whether Natalie had been physically prevented from leaving. Natalie admitted that no one had locked the exterior doors. Lorraine had kept her phone, canceled transportation, and told staff Natalie was mentally unstable. When Natalie tried to walk to the gate, Brooke had brought her back inside after she collapsed.
“Did she force you?” the detective asked.
“She put me in the SUV.”
“Did you tell her not to?”
“I said I wanted to leave.”
“What did she say?”
“That I didn’t know what I wanted.”
The detective took notes.
Afterward, Natalie sat in the car without fastening her seat belt.
“How was it?” Ethan asked.
“She asked reasonable questions.”
“That bad?”
Natalie looked at him. “Reasonable questions are hard when the answers aren’t neat.”
At the apartment, a certified letter waited beneath the door.
Lorraine had filed a petition seeking emergency authority over Mercer Ridge, claiming Ethan’s personal crisis and anticipated windfall had made him unstable and threatening to company assets. She also alleged Natalie was pressuring him while cognitively impaired by treatment.
“It’s a tactic,” Marisol said over the phone. “She wants leverage before the default.”
“Can she win?”
“Not emergency control based on this alone, but she can create expense and delay.”
“The house defaults in ten days.”
“Yes.”
“The company could lose it.”
“Yes.”
Ethan stared at the petition.
Natalie sat on the couch, eyes closed.
“I can fund the payment now,” he said.
“Your distribution has not closed,” Marisol replied.
“I can borrow against it.”
“And inject money into an entity whose manager you accuse of misconduct?”
“Then I buy their interests.”
“They have not accepted.”
“They will.”
Natalie opened her eyes.
After the call, Ethan paced between the kitchen and balcony.
“They want the money,” he said. “That is the one thing we know.”
Natalie watched him.
“I can offer enough to make them sign. Once I control Mercer Ridge, Lorraine loses the house. Brooke loses the SUV. We get the records. The debt gets paid.”
“What happens to them?”
“They leave.”
“And then?”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
He stopped.
Natalie pulled the blanket closer around herself.
“Not because I want to protect them. Because you keep talking about taking things. The house. The car. The company. You’re acting like if you collect enough property, what happened becomes balanced.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“It is a little.”
“They hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I found you on your knees.”
“I was there before you saw me.”
The room went still.
Natalie continued. “You keep starting the story when you walked onto the patio. It started earlier. It started when you moved me into that house because it was easier than changing your work. It started when your mother insulted me and you called her old-fashioned. It started when Brooke used our card without asking and you said she’d pay it back. It started when I told you I hated being dependent on them, and you said they were family.”
Ethan looked toward the window.
“I know.”
“No. You know the part that makes you angry. You don’t know the part that makes you responsible.”
He sat in the kitchen chair.
Natalie’s breathing had quickened. She pressed a hand against her chest until it slowed.
“I am responsible,” he said.
She shook her head. “That sounds like another promise.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to stop deciding what justice looks like before asking me.”
He waited.
“What does it look like?” he asked.
Natalie stared at the blanket in her lap.
“I don’t know yet.”
For the first time since the patio, he did not try to fill the silence.
The acquisition closed the next morning. Ethan’s distribution, after withholding and fees, was eight hundred seventy-six thousand dollars.
The number looked unreal on the banking screen. He had spent his adult life earning a field salary, living modestly, and ignoring the wealth tied up in his father’s properties. The deposit should have changed something inside him.
Instead, he made coffee, forgot to add grounds, and poured hot water into a mug.
Natalie tasted it and looked at him.
“That’s bad even for you.”
He laughed despite himself.
They sat on the balcony while traffic moved below.
“What do you want to do with the money?” he asked.
“Pay the hospital.”
“We have insurance.”
“Pay what insurance doesn’t.”
“All right.”
“Keep enough that you don’t have to take another eleven-day trip while I’m in treatment.”
He nodded.
“And the house?” he asked.
Natalie watched a pigeon walk along the opposite roof.
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s worth more than the debt.”
“I don’t care.”
“I might.”
“That’s why I’m telling you what I want, not ordering you.”
He took a drink of the terrible coffee.
“I want to save it,” he admitted.
“Because your father built it?”
“Because if Lorraine loses it to the bank, she gets to say I destroyed the family.”
“She will say that anyway.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to live there?”
“No.”
“Do you want Brooke’s SUV?”
“No.”
“Do you want the rentals?”
“They produce income when they’re managed properly.”
Natalie’s mouth moved slightly. “That sounded like your father.”
He looked down at the mug.
“Maybe I want proof I can manage what he couldn’t.”
“What couldn’t he manage?”
May you like
“People.”
A dry laugh escaped her. “Property seems easier.”
