“If you are calling because you are finally ready to build something under your own name, we can talk.”
That sentence saved me from making the worst decision of my life.
I had been furious enough to destroy Ethan.
Julian reminded me that destroying Ethan was not the same as rebuilding myself.
So I made him a promise.
I would bring no Drake Capital files.
No confidential documents.
No client lists belonging to Ethan.
No private information obtained through his company.
The database on my laptop contained years of my own notes and relationships, some personal and some sensitive.
I locked the ugliest gossip away and never used it commercially.
I did not need scandals to prove my value.
People already knew me.
That was the part Ethan had misunderstood.
Relationships were not furniture he acquired when he acquired me.
At the Grand Monroe, however, Ethan saw only the Cross & Vale name and immediately assumed theft.
He called Mr.
Wells.
My attorney answered on speakerphone.
“If Ava has taken proprietary Drake Capital information,” Ethan said, “we will seek an injunction before noon.”
Mr.
Wells remained calm.
“Then I suggest you identify the proprietary information.”
“She kept databases.”
“Created on whose equipment?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Her laptop.”
“Under what employment agreement?”
Silence.
A terrible truth was beginning to emerge.
Ethan had never employed me.
He had never paid me.
He had never given me a title.
He had preferred calling my work favors because favors did not require compensation, credit, or authority.
Mr.
Wells continued.
“My client has returned every Drake gift in her possession and has instructed me to cooperate regarding any item you can establish belongs to your company.
She has also preserved all communications.
I recommend similar caution on your side.”
Ethan’s father looked at him.
“What communications?”
Ethan ended the call.
That question would become important later.
For the moment, five hundred guests were waiting downstairs.
The ballroom doors were scheduled to open in twenty minutes.
Ethan’s mother demanded they delay the ceremony.
His father wanted the guests dismissed quietly.
Brooke wanted to leave.
Ethan refused all three suggestions.
He still believed I would return.
He borrowed a groomsman’s phone and called me eleven times.
On the twelfth attempt, I answered.
“Ava.” His voice softened immediately.
“Thank God.
Where are you?”
“Somewhere else.”
