Chapter 4 - Ethan's Real Debt
Margaret found Ethan two days later in the parking lot behind his office.
He was sitting inside his truck with both hands on the steering wheel.
The engine was off.
Margaret knocked on the passenger window with her cane.
Ethan jumped.
He unlocked the door.
"Mom? What are you doing here?"
"Looking for my son."
"You should have called."
"I did."
He looked away.
Margaret opened the passenger door but did not climb inside.
Her knee was too stiff.
"How much do you owe?"
Ethan's eyes closed.
Vanessa had clearly warned him.
"Mom."
"Number."
"This isn't your problem."
"Money is leaving my pension account."
His head snapped toward her.
"What?"
Margaret watched carefully.
Shock.
Real shock.
Or very good acting.
"Twelve thousand. Eight thousand. Smaller transfers before that."
"I didn't take your money."
"Are you gambling?"
He rubbed his face.
"Sometimes."
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"Then calculate."
"Mom, please."
"Did you borrow from a casino?"
"No."
"Loan shark?"
"No."
"Credit cards?"
He looked down.
There.
Margaret knew.
"How much?"
"Thirty-two."
"Thousand?"
Ethan nodded.
She exhaled.
Thirty-two thousand was terrible.
But it was not enough to explain nearly twenty thousand already missing from her account, especially if Vanessa's warning was true that he owed far more.
"Vanessa says your debt is bigger."
Ethan's expression changed.
"She told you?"
"She said more than you can repay."
He leaned back.
"She shouldn't have."
"So it is bigger."
Ethan stared through the windshield.
"She thinks with fees, interest, everything, maybe two hundred thousand."
Margaret frowned.
"What fees?"
"I don't know."
"What interest?"
"I don't know."
"Who do you owe?"
"Casino accounts. Cards. Private credit."
"Which casino?"
He hesitated.
"Cole Crown mostly."
Margaret felt her stomach tighten.
"Have you ever used my pension money?"
"No."
"Have you ever had my pension card?"
"No."
"Do you know my online banking password?"
"No."
He looked offended.
That gave Margaret no comfort.
Guilty people were often offended.
"Does Vanessa?"
"I don't know."
"You let her handle your finances?"
"She helped after I told her about the debt."
"Why?"
"Because she said she'd fix it."
Margaret stared at him.
"With what money?"
Ethan finally looked ashamed.
"She wanted us to ask you for help."
"No."
"I told her you'd say no."
"You were correct."
"Mom, I made a mistake."
"You made thirty-two thousand mistakes."
"Thirty-eight."
Margaret's eyebrows lifted.
"What?"
"I checked yesterday. It's closer to thirty-eight."
"Then where does two hundred thousand come from?"
He rubbed his jaw.
"Vanessa says some of the debt isn't showing in the regular account."
"That sentence doesn't make sense."
"I know."
"No, Ethan. You don't know. If you knew, you wouldn't be sitting in a truck letting your wife explain your own debt to you."
His face hardened.
"You always hated her."
Margaret almost laughed.
There it was.
The old defense.
When facts became uncomfortable, people reached for emotion.
"I did not always hate Vanessa."
"You never thought she was good enough."
"I thought she enjoyed controlling rooms. I thought she spoke about money as though everyone else's belonged to whoever could take it first. Those were observations, not hatred."
"She's trying to save me."
Margaret rested both hands on her cane.
"Then ask her for every account statement."
"I have statements."
"Original statements."
"They look original."
"That is not what I said."
Ethan looked at her.
Margaret continued.
"You once told me gambling made you feel like you could fix bad luck by being cleverer than everyone else."
He looked away.
"You know what worries me now?"
"What?"
"You're doing it outside the casino too."
She left him sitting there.
That evening, Ethan confronted Vanessa.
Margaret would not learn exactly what happened until much later.
But according to Ethan, he asked for original records.
Vanessa cried.
She told him the casino had extended unofficial credit through a private VIP channel.
She said Victor Cole's people could seize their house.
She said the only way out was to pay quickly.
Then she showed him documents.
A balance of two hundred thirty-eight thousand dollars.
Ethan saw his name.
His address.
His player identification number.
His signature.
He did not remember signing the paperwork.
Vanessa told him he had been drunk.
That accusation worked because sometimes he had been.
Shame filled in the missing pieces.
He believed her.
The next morning Vanessa visited Margaret.
She brought coffee.
Margaret did not drink it.
"We need to talk about Ethan."
"No."
Vanessa sat anyway.
"He could lose everything."
"He can sell his truck."
"It's not enough."
"Then he can sell his other truck."
"This is serious."
"So is theft."
Vanessa's eyes sharpened.
Margaret placed a copy of the bank statement on the table.
"Twenty thousand dollars."
Vanessa glanced at it once.
Too quickly.
"Maybe Ethan did it."
Margaret watched her.
"You told me he didn't."
"I said I didn't think he would."
"No. You said he would never steal from me."
Vanessa leaned back.
"You're twisting words."
"I'm remembering them."
Vanessa stood.
"You know what your problem is?"
Margaret smiled faintly.
"I suspect you're going to tell me."
"You care more about being right than protecting your own son."
"And you care more about frightening me than explaining numbers."
For the first time, Vanessa's pleasant expression disappeared completely.
"Ethan's debt can destroy us."
"Then you and Ethan should deal with Ethan's debt."
"You have money."
"I have retirement income."
"You own this house."
"I live in this house."
"You have savings."
"I worked forty years for them."
Vanessa stepped closer.
"He's your child."
Margaret looked up at her.
"He is forty-one."
Vanessa's voice dropped.
"If you refuse to help him, don't pretend you didn't choose what happens next."
Margaret waited until Vanessa left.
Then she opened her notebook.
Under the existing entries, she wrote:
Vanessa wants the house.
Vanessa is afraid of original statements.
May you like
And beneath that:
Find the phone number ending 1184.
