Chapter 10 - The Letter to My Son
My husband, David, wrote the letter two weeks before he died.
Ethan was fifteen.
David made me promise not to give it to him until he was married or thirty-seven, whichever came first.
Ethan was thirty-six.
I had never opened it.
Now someone else had.
My office camera showed Martin entering after midnight using an old emergency badge.
He went directly to the drawer.
He knew exactly what he wanted.
Ethan sat beside me in the dark conference room.
"What did Dad write?"
"I don't know."
"You really never read it?"
"He asked me not to."
My son smiled sadly. "That's annoyingly honorable."
"Your father was annoyingly specific."
Nina traced Martin's last known rental car to Kentucky.
Then an email arrived from an anonymous account.
Attached was a scanned page from David's letter.
Ethan read it aloud.
Son, there may come a day when someone loves the Carter name more than they love you. Never confuse access to our family with affection for you.
Ethan stopped.
The second paragraph was worse.
If anyone ever pressures you to combine your voting rights, trust interests, or future inheritance with a spouse's family business, call your mother before you sign a single page.
Nina whispered, "David anticipated this?"
Not the Mitchells.
But he understood wealth.
The email contained one sentence.
MARGARET, YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO DAVID ABOUT MARTIN TOO.
I stared at the screen.
My husband had known Martin Sloane before I hired him.
I had never known that.
Then a second scan arrived.
May you like
In David's handwriting:
Martin is brilliant, but he is always one bad year away from selling his loyalty.
