Chapter 17 - THE MEETING
Two weeks later, the chaos began to settle.
The media had picked up the story of the "Chameleon Conman."
Ethan's face was plastered across the news.
All four of his faces.
Eric, Michael, David, and Ethan.
I spent my days on the phone with lawyers, bankers, and federal agents.
Unraveling a decade of financial fraud was exhausting work.
But my house was finally quiet.
The locks had been changed.
The security system had been upgraded.
One Tuesday morning, Detective Mitchell called me.
"There's someone who wants to meet you," she said.
"Who?"
"Her name is Sarah."
"She was victim number two."
"She saw you on the news and asked if she could speak with you."
I hesitated.
Meeting another victim felt intrusive.
Like reopening a wound.
But I agreed.
We met at a quiet coffee shop downtown.
Sarah was a beautiful woman in her late thirties.
She looked tired, but there was a fierce strength in her eyes.
When I sat down, she didn't introduce herself.
She just reached across the table and hugged me.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" I asked, taken aback.
"For catching him."
She sat back and wiped a tear from her eye.
"I was married to him as Michael Reed," she said.
"He stole my inheritance from my grandmother."
"He made me think I was losing my mind."
"He replaced my medication."
"He convinced my friends I was suicidal."
I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
The exact same playbook.
Phase Two.
"When he left, he took everything," Sarah continued.
"I spent three years in therapy trying to convince myself I wasn't crazy."
"No one believed me."
"They all thought I just mismanaged my money."
"But you proved it."
"You showed the world exactly what he is."
I looked at her, realizing how close I had come to being in her exact position.
"I didn't do it alone," I said softly.
"My dad found a voice recorder."
"That was the key."
Sarah smiled sadly.
"He was so careful with me."
"No recorders. No paper trails."
"He got sloppy with you."
"Because he was getting arrogant."
"He thought he was invincible."
We sat and talked for three hours.
We compared notes.
We realized he used the same phrases to manipulate us.
"You're overreacting."
"You're just tired."
"Let me handle the finances, you need to rest."
It was sickening how rehearsed his love had been.
But talking to Sarah also brought me a strange sense of peace.
I wasn't alone.
May you like
I wasn't crazy.
I was just the final chapter of a very long, very dark story.
