“What did you plan to do after the wedding?”
He said nothing.
Margaret answered for him.
“Ethan intended to petition the court for control over Judith’s finances, claiming she was mentally incompetent.”
The words struck harder than any slap.
My own son had not merely wanted my money.
He had wanted the legal right to control every dollar I possessed.
He had intended to use my grief, my age, and my public humiliation as evidence against me.
Brooke’s voice cracked.
“He told me you were difficult. That you would never accept me. That you were interfering in our marriage.”
“Were you helping him?” I asked.
She flinched.
“For a while.”
The room fell silent.
“Then why did you tell me to leave?”
Brooke looked at Ethan.
“Because I found the recordings.”
She took a phone from her bouquet.
“I started recording him after I realized he was lying. He talked about drugging you at the reception. He said a little sedative in your wine would make you confused, emotional, unstable. Then he would call an ambulance and tell everyone you had a breakdown.”
A coldness spread through my body.
Daniel, the venue manager, looked toward the wine table.
“Was there something in the wine?”
Brooke nodded.
“I saw him give a vial to the bartender this afternoon. I switched the bottle before anything was served.”
Ethan moved suddenly.
Mr. Reyes stepped in front of him.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Ethan looked at Brooke with naked hatred.
“You ruined everything.”
“No,” she said. “You did.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“You think they’ll believe you? You were part of this.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“That’s why I told Judith to leave. I didn’t know how else to protect her without making you suspicious.”
I remembered her expression when she had told me I did not belong there.
It had not been disgust.
It had been terror.
I remembered the way her eyes had flicked toward Ethan before she spoke.
At the time, I had thought she was checking whether he approved of her cruelty.
Now I understood.
She had been checking whether he was watching her closely.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because he had access to everything,” she whispered. “My phone. My email. My bank account. He told me if I left, he would send private photographs to my employer and say I had stolen from him. I was afraid.”
“You could have called the police.”
“I did.”
The young woman with the tablet nodded.
“We received her report two weeks ago. The investigation was already underway.”
Margaret opened another document.
“Judith, there is one more thing you need to know.”
