“You told Ava you didn’t know who she was.”
“I’d never met her.”
Her tone softened.
It was a familiar strategy.
“You don’t know what this woman wants.”
“She wants the trust Dad created for her.”
“There is no trust.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From my sister?”
“From someone using grief and biology to manipulate you.”
Ethan looked at me.
The word biology hung in the air.
Lorraine was rejecting Camille because of where she came from.
“Did Dad leave money for her?” Ethan asked.
“I told you there isn’t a trust.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Another long silence.
“No.”
“Ethan, this is family business.”
“Ava is my family.”
“She’s your wife.”
“Exactly.”
When the call ended, Ethan stared at the dark screen.
I touched one of the photographs.
“She still thinks those are different things.”
The next morning we went together to Lorraine’s office.
Bennett Holdings occupied the top three floors of a downtown glass tower.
Two weeks before our wedding, Lorraine had invited me to lunch there.
She spent nearly an hour explaining what came with the Bennett name.
Charity boards.
Public appearances.
Elite schools.
Then she slid a prenuptial agreement across the table.
Ethan and I had already signed one with our own lawyers.
Her version was different.
It included a clause offering me one hundred thousand dollars to walk away from the engagement.
I left it untouched beside her dessert.
Now the receptionist looked surprised to see Ethan arrive with me.
Lorraine waited behind her black walnut desk.
She didn’t ask us to sit.
“I told you to come alone.”
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