Chapter 9 - VANESSA’S SIDE
Vanessa wasn’t Ethan’s mistress.
People assumed.
Cream gown.
Private meetings.
Jewelry.
Secrets.
Truth less sensational.
She was Patricia’s friend’s daughter.
Event planner.
Networker.
Someone who liked proximity to powerful people.
Ethan used that.
She liked being useful.
Patricia praised her.
Then money.
Debt assistance.
Gifts.
Vanessa convinced herself she was facilitating introductions.
Until envelopes.
Then she knew something was wrong.
Why continue?
“Because I liked being important.”
There it was.
Same disease.
Different person.
Status.
Patricia wanted status through Ethan.
Ethan wanted status through Bell and Mercer.
Vanessa wanted status through proximity.
I wasn’t immune either.
Uniforms.
Medals.
Praise.
Could become addictive.
Difference was what you were willing to sacrifice.
Vanessa sacrificed judgment.
Ethan sacrificed integrity.
Patricia sacrificed relationships.
Then Vanessa cooperated.
Returned records.
Accepted consequences for her role.
Her professional reputation suffered.
She didn’t blame me.
At least not eventually.
Then she asked:
“Why didn’t you expose me in ballroom?”
“I didn’t know what you’d done.”
“You could’ve humiliated me.”
“That wasn’t my job.”
She stared.
Then laughed sadly.
“Patricia would’ve.”
Exactly.
Then she asked:
“Do you hate Ethan?”
“No.”
“How?”
“I’m angry.”
“That’s not hate.”
“No.”
“Still love him?”
I looked away.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Sorry.”
“Me too.”
Then she said:
“He talked about you constantly.”
That surprised me.
“Badly?”
“Mostly proudly.”
I stared.
“He’d tell everyone how brilliant you were. Then later he’d make some joke cutting you down.”
Contradiction.
Admiration curdled into resentment.
Maybe Ethan didn’t hate my success.
Maybe he hated what it made him feel about himself.
Still his responsibility.
Then General Hayes announced he was retiring within year.
Ethan heard.
His reaction devastated me.
Not because mentor leaving.
Because opportunity disappeared.
Even now, some part of him calculated career.
That told me divorce was right.
Then Hayes asked me to attend retirement ceremony.
I hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because you earned your seat.”
Simple.
No Walker name.
No husband.
No Patricia.
Me.
I accepted.
Then Patricia heard.
And requested to attend too.
As widow of James Walker, she had legitimate connection.
Hayes allowed it.
Meaning sooner or later—
May you like
we would stand in same room again.
This time without Ethan between us.
