Chapter 4 - Behind the Curtains
By noon, the news within Denver’s real estate network was spreading rapidly. Financial circles in small cities are tight-knit, and word that Richard Whitmore was severing ties with Hale Enterprise hit the market like a seismic shockwave.
Victor spent four chaotic hours locked in his home office, shouting into his phone, ordering his accountants to move funds, and attempting to reach my father directly. But Richard Whitmore’s personal assistants gave Victor the exact same answer every single time: “Mr. Whitmore is currently in meetings and unavailable.”
I spent those four hours helping Ethan zip his bags and carrying them down the back stairs to my father’s SUV, which was parked quietly at the end of the driveway. Ethan didn't ask questions. He was a smart boy; he could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The heavy, oppressive tension that usually hung over our house whenever Victor was home was suddenly breaking apart.
Around two in the afternoon, Victor burst out of his office, his hair disheveled, his tie loosened, and his designer suit jacket discarded. He looked frantic, like a man trapped in a burning building with no clear exits.
“Clara! Pack a bag!” he barked as he hurried into the living room. “We’re driving up to Aspen right now. We need to talk to your father in person. This is all a massive misunderstanding. His lawyers are claiming there are financial irregularities in our regional accounts!”
I was sitting on the sofa, holding a warm cup of coffee, completely relaxed. “There’s no need to drive to Aspen, Victor.”
He froze in the middle of the room. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going to Aspen with you,” I said, looking up at him. “Ethan and I are leaving. But we aren't coming back.”
Victor stared at me as if I had spoken in a foreign language. “What?”
I pulled a crisp, white envelope from the coffee table and set it down in front of him. Inside were formal divorce papers, drafted overnight by my father’s family law attorneys, alongside an emergency custody application for Ethan.
“You’re divorcing me?” Victor sneered, a flash of his old arrogance returning through his panic. “Now? When my business is under attack? Over a minor financial hiccup?”
“It isn’t a financial hiccup, Victor,” I said firmly, standing up to face him. “And it isn’t about business.”
He blinked, genuinely confused. “Then what is this about?”
“It’s about twenty-six dollars,” I said quietly.
Victor stared at me, his mouth opening slightly, completely lost.
“Twenty-six dollars,” I repeated, stepping closer to him so he could hear every single word clearly. “The price of the cake Ethan asked for. You told him we didn't have money to waste on sugar, and then you struck him across the face in our kitchen. And the very next day, you spent fifteen hundred dollars on an iPad for your brother’s son just so you could feel like a big man in front of your family.”
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Victor’s face flushed red. “He was being disrespectful! I was teaching him a lesson about money!”
“No, Victor,” I corrected him coldly. “My father was standing in the hallway. He saw what you did to his grandson. And he decided to teach you a lesson about money.”
