PART 2
“Start with the house.”
My father's words hung in the hospital corridor.
Ethan stopped laughing.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked genuinely uncertain.
“What house?” he demanded.
My father, Robert Whitaker, didn't bother answering him. He turned toward Rebecca Collins, our family attorney, and handed her a thick leather folder.
“The property on Hawthorne Ridge. I want the original deed, the trust documents, and every financial record connected to that property reviewed immediately.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Already prepared, Robert.”
Ethan's expression changed.
“Hold on. Hawthorne Ridge is my house. Caroline and I bought that property together.”
My father finally looked at him.
“No, Ethan. You live in that house. There's a difference.”
Margaret stepped forward, her designer handbag hanging from her elbow.
“This is ridiculous! Caroline married my son. Whatever belongs to him belongs to their marriage. You can't simply walk in here and start making threats.”
My father studied her for several seconds.
“Mrs. Hayes, I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I'm giving you an opportunity to stop embarrassing yourself.”
A nurse passing through the corridor slowed down. Another glanced toward the security desk.
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Mr. Whitaker, I don't know what Caroline has told you, but she's been sick for months. She's been emotionally unstable, and now she's trying to turn a medical emergency into a financial dispute.”
I wanted to speak, but my chest tightened.
The monitor beside my bed began beeping faster.
Rebecca immediately raised her hand.
“That's enough. My client is critically ill. Any further discussion will take place through counsel.”
My father came to my bedside.
He took my hand carefully, avoiding the IV line.
“Sweetheart, you don't have to explain anything. We're here.”
I looked at him.
“Dad, the house...”
“I know.”
“No, you don't understand. Ethan said it was his. He told me the mortgage payments came from his business account.”
My father nodded slowly.
“That's exactly why Rebecca is here.”
Then he turned toward Ethan.
“Let me ask you something. When Caroline married you, did you ever investigate her family?”
Ethan scoffed.
“Why would I? I married her, not her parents.”
My father almost smiled.
“Interesting answer.”
He opened the folder.
“Caroline's grandfather established the Whitaker Family Trust in 1987. It owns several commercial properties, agricultural holdings, and investment interests across three states. My daughter was named a primary beneficiary long before she met you.”
Ethan shrugged.
“I know her family has money. That doesn't mean I get any of it.”
“Correct,” Rebecca interrupted. “And it certainly doesn't mean you can claim property held by the trust as your personal marital asset.”
She placed several documents on the small table beside my bed.
“Hawthorne Ridge was purchased through Whitaker Residential Holdings, an entity owned by the family trust. The property was provided to Caroline as her residence. Your name appears on a separate occupancy agreement, not the deed.”
Ethan stared at the paperwork.
“That can't be right.”
“It's entirely right,” Rebecca replied.
Margaret grabbed one of the documents.
“This is some kind of trick!”
Rebecca calmly retrieved it.
“Please don't touch legal documents belonging to my client.”
My father continued.
“Now, about the divorce papers.”
Ethan straightened his jacket.
“Good. Let's talk about that. I want this over with. Caroline can keep whatever personal belongings she has, but I'm not taking responsibility for her medical expenses.”
My father looked at the envelope.
“Did you serve these papers while your wife was receiving emergency treatment for heart failure?”
“She needs to understand reality.”
“Did you consult an attorney?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Did you attempt to obtain her signature?”
Ethan hesitated.
“I gave her the papers. She knows what they are.”
Rebecca picked up the envelope and examined the documents.
Then she looked at him.
“These are not properly executed. More importantly, your wife's medical condition does not eliminate her legal rights. She will have independent counsel, and no one will pressure her into signing anything.”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Let her hire ten lawyers. I don't care.”
My mother, who had been standing quietly beside my father, finally spoke.
“Ethan, do you remember the day Lily was born?”
He looked at her impatiently.
“What about it?”
“You held your daughter for less than five minutes before leaving the hospital to attend a business dinner.”
“That's not true.”
“I was there,” my mother replied. “I watched you put your phone to your ear while Caroline was still recovering from surgery.”
Margaret folded her arms.
“My son works hard. Someone has to provide for this family.”
My mother looked directly at her.
“Then why did my daughter spend the last three months buying groceries with her personal savings while Ethan claimed his company was struggling?”
Silence.
