Chapter 5 - The Deeper Treachery
The county jail smelled of sour bleach and damp concrete, but I didn't care. I sat in a private attorney-client conference room behind reinforced glass, flanked by Evelyn Vance and an investigator from the state insurance commissioner’s office named Bradley Ross.
Ethan sat across from us in an orange jumpsuit.
The sixty days between the preliminary hearing and the trial had stripped him of every shred of his former polish. His hair was greasy and overgrown; dark purple hollows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. When he looked at me, he tried to project cold disdain, but his hands trembled against the steel table.
"You look well, Mara," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Enjoying spending my money on high-priced lawyers?"
"Your money?" Evelyn Vance scoffed, dropping a thick red expanding folder onto the metal table with a thunderous *thwack*. "Let's talk about whose money has been spent, Ethan."
Ethan didn't touch the file. "I have nothing to say to you without Croft."
"Mr. Croft has just been disqualified from your defense," Evelyn said smoothly, smiling with the razor-sharp satisfaction of a predator. "Because Mr. Croft is now a named co-defendant in a civil racketeering lawsuit filed this morning by the State Attorney General’s office."
Ethan blanched. "What?"
Bradley Ross, the insurance investigator, slid a single sheet of paper beneath the glass divider.
"Do you recognize this policy document, Mr. Collins?" Ross asked.
Ethan’s eyes darted down at the paper. His pupils constricted.
"It’s a standard term life insurance policy," Ethan whispered, his throat bobbing. "Every married couple takes one out when they buy a home."
"Yes," Ross agreed. "A standard policy usually has a benefit of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, designated to cover the remaining mortgage in the event of an untimely death. But this policy isn't for two hundred and fifty thousand."
Ross leaned closer to the glass.
"This is a supplemental, accidental death and dismemberment rider for two point two million dollars. Taken out four months ago. On Mara Collins."
A chill so profound rushed through my veins that my fingertips went numb. Beside me, June kicked gently, as if sensing the cold shadow that had suddenly fallen over the room.
"And here’s the interesting clause, Ethan," Evelyn continued, her voice dripping with ice. "The policy contained a specific rider covering maternal mortality resulting from home birth or unattended domestic labor complications. Taken out through an offshore underwriter based in the Cayman Islands. Premiums paid directly from the LLC Diane created with the stolen HELOC funds."
I stared at the man I had slept beside for four years. The man who had rubbed cocoa butter on my belly. The man who had listened to June’s heartbeat through a wooden stethoscope.
"You weren't just going to take the baby," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow to the chest. "You weren't going to divorce me."
Ethan didn't answer. He couldn't. His gaze dropped to the steel table, his jaw working silently.
"You knew Diane's creditors were going to seize her ancestral home on Oakridge Lane," Evelyn said, laying out the puzzle pieces with brutal clarity. "You had already exhausted your own credit lines. You forged the eighty-five thousand dollar equity loan, but that was just a stopgap. You needed millions to clear her debts and keep up the illusion that the Collins family was wealthy. And Mara’s life was worth more than her marriage."
"I didn't... that wasn't me," Ethan stammered, looking up desperately. "That was my mother! That was all Diane! She told me she was setting up a trust for the baby! She managed the paperwork! Mara, you have to believe me! I love you! I love June!"
"You held me down on a wooden bench while she commanded you to hurt me," I said, my voice steady, stripped of all tears, stripped of every lingering scrap of affection. "You looked into my eyes while I told you I was carrying your child, and you said, *'I know.'*"
"I panicked!" Ethan cried, tears finally spilling down his cheeks, snot running over his lip. He reached out, his cuffed hands slamming against the security glass. "I was terrified of her! She controlled my whole life! Mara, please, don't let them put me away! I’ll testify against her! I’ll tell the prosecutor everything! Just drop the attempted murder investigation!"
Evelyn Vance closed her folder with a deliberate, echoing snap.
"The State of Oregon doesn't need your testimony, Ethan," Evelyn said, standing up. "We already have your mother's personal journals, seized from her home safe yesterday afternoon. She documented every single transfer. She even wrote down the dates she planned to stage Mara’s 'fall' down the basement stairs after the thirty-second week."
Ethan’s face went dead white. All the blood drained from his features until he looked like a corpse in an orange jumpsuit.
"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Collins," Evelyn said.
I stood up slowly, supported by Natalie’s arm. I looked at Ethan one last time—not with anger, not with vengeance, but with the clean, hollow pity one feels for a poisonous snake that has finally broken its own fangs.
"Goodbye, Ethan," I said softly.
As we walked down the concrete corridor toward the heavy metal security gates, Ethan’s screams echoed behind us, muffled by the glass, swallowed by the thick steel walls:
"Mara! Mara, don't leave me here! She made me do it! Mara!"
May you like
The outer door buzzed and swung open, letting in the cool, sweet autumn air. I took a deep, shuddering breath, filling my lungs with clean oxygen, feeling June shift joyfully beneath my ribs.
***
