But seeing it weaponized in print made the vulnerability feel different, more exposed than he'd anticipated. "What kind of interview?" "Local news." Someone sympathetic who will ask questions that let you explain rather than defend. We frame this as class prejudice.
Business elite uncomfortable with CEO marrying outside her economic bracket. Make the story about them judging you rather than about you being opportunist. It was smart strategy and Ethan hated how calculating it sounded. But Victoria was right. Silence would let Marcus' narrative win.
The interview was scheduled for that afternoon, local NBC affiliate that did human interest pieces alongside news coverage. The reporter was a woman named Sarah Chen, who'd built her career on profiling people who didn't usually get media attention. She arrived at Victoria's penthouse at 3:00 with camera crew that was respectfully minimal. Sarah was early 40s, dressed in professional casual. She shook Ethan's hand with genuine warmth that felt different from the transactional politeness he'd experienced from Victoria's lawyer.
"Mr. Carter, thank you for agreeing to this interview. I know the past few days have been overwhelming." They sat in Victoria's living room, cameras positioned to capture Ethan with the lake view behind him. Sarah asked her sound technician to check levels, then settled into her chair with notepad. Let's start simple.
"Tell me about your wife, Sarah. What was she like?" The question surprised Ethan. Nothing in Marcus' leaked documents had included personal details about Sarah beyond her death. This reporter had clearly done independent research.
Ethan took a breath, letting himself remember Sarah in ways that didn't hurt quite as much as they used to. She was a nurse, pediatric ICU. She worked nights mostly and she'd come home exhausted but still find energy to play with Lily to make breakfast feel special even when we were both running on no sleep. His voice caught. She was the kind of person who made hard things feel manageable just by being present.
"How did she die?" "Car accident." Drunk driver ran a red light. She was 8 months pregnant with our second child. Ethan heard his voice go flat. protective mechanism against grief that was still raw.
I was supposed to pick her up from her shift, but I was running late from my delivery route. She decided to drive herself rather than wait. If I'd been on time, he stopped because finishing the sentence meant voicing the guilt he'd carried for 36 months. Sarah's voice was gentle. That's a lot of weight to carry.
"Do you blame yourself?" "Every single day." and Lily. How has she processed losing her mother? Ethan glanced toward the hallway where Lily was playing in her room. Victoria reading to her from picture book about cats.
She still asks when mommy's coming home. We've explained death probably 200 times. But four-year-olds don't process permanence the same way adults do. So, I just keep explaining and hoping eventually it'll stick. That must be exhausting.