Chapter 8 - The Fall of Ethan Vance
While Madison was facing trial, Ethan’s downfall reached its tragic, desperate absolute bottom.
Without his CEO position, his wealth, or his reputation, Ethan was forced to sell his luxury vehicles, his watches, and his shares to pay off the massive legal judgments filed against him by Vance Enterprises’ board of directors.
He was evicted from his mansion, moving into a small, run-down rental apartment on the outskirts of the city.
One rainy Tuesday afternoon, two weeks after the court hearing, I walked out of The Starlight Foundation building after a long, successful board meeting. We had just secured a ten-million-dollar state grant to open three new pediatric medical clinics.
As I approached my car in the parking garage, a dark figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.
"Claire."
I stopped.
It was Ethan.
He was wearing an old, faded jacket, his cheeks sunken, his eyes hollow and dark. He held a wet, crumpled bouquet of cheap grocery-store roses in his trembling hands.
"Ethan," I said, keeping my distance, resting my hand near the emergency security button on my car key fob. "You're not supposed to be within five hundred feet of me. I have a restraining order."
"I know... I know," Ethan choked out, taking a small, hesitating step forward. "I don't care about the order, Claire. I just... I needed to see you. Just for five minutes."
He held out the crumpled roses.
"I bought these for you," Ethan whispered, tears welling in his red eyes. "They're pink roses... your favorite. Remember? I used to bring them to you every Friday when we first got married."
I looked at the roses, then looked at him.
"That was a long time ago, Ethan."
"We can go back to that, Claire!" Ethan sobbed, dropping to his knees on the cold concrete garage floor, holding the flowers up like a beggar. "I was wrong! God, I was so stupid! I let Madison poison my mind! I let my pride ruin the best thing that ever happened to me! I don't care about the money! I don't care about the company! I just want my wife back!"
I stood there in the quiet garage, listening to the echoing sound of my ex-husband weeping at my feet.
A year ago, I would have given anything to hear him apologize. A year ago, I would have thought his tears meant he loved me.
But looking at him now, I saw the truth.
"You don't want your wife back, Ethan," I said gently, my voice filled with complete clarity. "You just want someone to save you from the mess you created. You didn't love me when we were married; you loved how comfortable I made your life. You loved having someone to take care of you while you took all the credit."
"No! That's not true! I love you, Claire!" he wailed.
"If you loved me, you would have believed me when I told you I was hurting," I said. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have thrown me out the moment you thought I couldn't give you what you wanted."
I pulled my car keys out, unlocking the driver's door.
May you like
"Goodbye, Ethan," I said softly. "I hope you find peace. But you will never find it with me."
I climbed into my car, started the engine, and drove away, leaving him kneeling alone in the dim light of the garage, weeping over a pile of crushed pink roses.
