Chapter 4 - THE DEAD WOMAN WHO OWNED MY HUSBAND’S COMPANY
Lauren Price died in Portland after an aneurysm.
I knew that because Ethan had told me.
He said he did not attend the funeral because Carol had banned him from coming.
That story turned out to contain one truth.
Lauren was dead.
Almost everything else was wrong.
Rachel located the Oregon probate file.
Ethan had attended the funeral.
So had Howard and Carol.
There were photographs posted by a cousin.
Ethan stood beside his parents outside the church.
The family had not been estranged.
Lauren had.
Specifically from Howard.
The probate record showed a two-year legal fight before her death over money she claimed Price Capital owed her from a property venture.
“That’s why Ethan never talked about her,” I said.
My mother looked at the file.
“Or why he gave you a fake version.”
PAC Strategic Facilities had been incorporated two months after Lauren’s death.
Her name.
Her date of birth.
An old Maryland address.
An electronic signature.
Howard’s law-school friend had served as registered agent.
That friend retained counsel the same afternoon Rachel contacted him.
The deeper we looked, the less accidental anything seemed.
I left Collins Precision just before four and went to Rachel’s office in Arlington.
A detective from Alexandria Police met us there.
The domestic assault investigation remained separate from the financial case.
But my recording mattered because it showed Ethan saying the prenup would be “fixed.”
The forged documents mattered because the confrontation appeared linked to money.
Federal or state financial investigators might eventually become involved depending on banking facts.
Nobody promised anything.
I was becoming grateful for professionals who refused to promise.
At six, Ethan’s attorney contacted Rachel.
Ethan wanted to provide information.
I said no.
Rachel said, “Hear what he offers through counsel.”
Fine.
His lawyer sent a written proffer.
Ethan admitted he had operated PAC.
He denied creating it.
He said Howard created it using Lauren’s identity.
He admitted he knew Collins Precision was paying PAC.
He claimed the services were “partially legitimate.”
He denied opening the Fulton Mercer investment account.
Then came the sentence that mattered.
My parents told me Maya knew the money was being moved through her investment structure.
I stared at it.
“He’s blaming Howard and Carol.”
Rachel nodded.
“He is separating himself where he can.”
My mother said, “He also threatened you with a belt.”
Rachel looked at her.
“Judge.”
“Retired.”
“Still.”
My mother leaned back.
“I’m not interfering.”
“You’re doing it with your face.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It hurt.
Rachel continued reading.
Ethan admitted that the documents Howard brought to our house had been prepared before the honeymoon.
He said he believed I would sign voluntarily.
I asked, “Then why the belt?”
The lawyer’s response came ten minutes later.
Mr. Price is not currently discussing the pending assault allegation.
Of course.
That night I slept at my mother’s condo in McLean.
The townhouse was mine, purchased before marriage.
But I could not stand the thought of Ethan returning with some legal claim that he needed clothes, documents, or access.
His attorney arranged a supervised retrieval later.
My mother made pasta.
I ate four bites.
Then I opened Lauren’s probate case again.
The lawsuit she had threatened before her death concerned a Price Capital project called Mill Creek Landing.
Howard and Lauren had jointly invested.
Lauren alleged Howard refinanced the property without her consent and used the proceeds to cover losses elsewhere.
The case never reached trial.
She died first.
Her estate settled quietly.
“Pattern,” my mother said.
“What?”
“Howard uses signatures and family relationships to solve liquidity problems.”
I looked at her.
“You’ve been a judge too long.”
“You’re a forensic accountant.”
“Fair.”
Another document sat in Lauren’s probate file.
An email from Ethan.
It was dated three months before Lauren died.
Lauren,
Please stop this. Dad will make it right. If you drag everyone into court, Mom loses the house and Price Capital collapses.
Lauren replied:
He said the same thing in 2018.
Ethan:
This time is different.
Lauren:
It is always different until the bank statement arrives.
I read that twice.
Ethan had known what Howard was capable of years before meeting me.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
MAYA, THIS IS JULIA PRICE. LAUREN’S DAUGHTER.
I sat up.
Ethan had told me Lauren never had children.
A second message arrived.
MY MOTHER LEFT A FILE ABOUT HOWARD.
Then a photograph.
Lauren stood beside a teenage girl with Ethan’s eyes.
Julia wrote:
ETHAN KNOWS I HAVE IT.
HE CAME TO PORTLAND TWO WEEKS BEFORE YOUR WEDDING AND TRIED TO BUY IT FROM ME.
I stared at the message.
May you like
Then the last line appeared.
HE SAID IF YOU EVER SAW WHAT WAS INSIDE, YOU WOULD NEVER MARRY HIM.
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