22. Radio Silence
Chapter twenty-two
Radio Silence
Maya
Wednesday passed without word from Ethan, which was fine. Totally fine. He was busy with ethics interviews and prosecutor meetings and probably fighting off journalists with a stick. I was a mature, independent woman who didn't need constant contact to feel secure in her relationship.
"You're doing it again," Tessa said, catching me mid-phone-check while I was supposed to be shaping croissants.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you pretend you're casually checking the time but you're actually seeing if Ethan texted.
" She grabbed my phone and held it hostage.
"He's fine. He's probably just in meetings where phones aren't allowed.
You know, like normal professional situations where people can't text their girlfriends every five minutes? "
"It's been forty-eight hours."
"So?"
"So forty-eight hours ago he was texting me about job offers and coming home and figuring out our future. Now it's complete radio silence. That's concerning, right? That's not just me being clingy?"
Tessa considered this while boxing up an order of heart-shaped pastéis de nata.
"Okay, it's a little concerning. But there are approximately seven thousand innocent explanations before we jump to 'he's ghosting you after declaring his love.’ Besides, I really don’t think he’s in the proper headspace to be picking up babes right now.”
"I wasn't thinking he's ghosting me." I was absolutely thinking he might be ghosting me.
"Liar. You have your panicked face on. The one that says you're catastrophizing about seventeen different worst-case scenarios." She handed back my phone. "Text him if you're worried."
I did. "How are you doing? Everything okay?"
The message showed delivered but not read, which somehow felt worse than no response at all. Like his phone was on but he was deliberately ignoring me. Or dead in a ditch. Or—stop it, Maya, you're catastrophizing.
"See? Not even read," I showed Tessa.
"Which means his phone is off or he's in a meeting or literally any explanation that isn't 'he's abandoned you for a life of crime.'" She grabbed my phone again. "You're not allowed to check this for at least two hours. Focus on Sweetheart Week. Make pretty pastries. Stop spiraling."
I tried. I really did. But Sweetheart Week—normally my favorite time of year—felt like torture when I was trying not to panic about my boyfriend vanishing in Seattle while facing potential disbarment.
Boyfriend. Was that even the right word? We'd said "I love you" and made plans and he'd promised to come home, but we hadn't exactly defined terms. Maybe I was spiraling over someone who was technically just my fake-dating-turned-real-but-still-undefined situation.
God, I needed therapy.
Friday morning brought a FedEx delivery that immediately sent my anxiety into overdrive. Official legal documents in a thick envelope with a Seattle law firm's return address. My hands were actually shaking as I signed for it.
"Please be something boring like tax forms," I muttered, opening the envelope. "Please be literally anything except—oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Notice of Civil Action: Campbell v. Caldwell
"What is it?" Tessa appeared at my shoulder.
"A lawsuit. Marcus Campbell is suing Ethan for—" I flipped pages, catching phrases that made my stomach drop. "Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars for theft of trade secrets and breach of fiduciary duty."
"That's insane—"
"Oh, it gets better." I found my name buried in paragraph seventeen. "He's suing me too. For conspiracy and joint liability because apparently I'm a co-conspirator in exposing the fraud that they committed."
Tessa grabbed the documents, reading rapidly. Her expression went from concerned to furious. "They're claiming you orchestrated a media campaign? You've barely said anything publicly!"
"Doesn't matter. They're saying Ethan and I coordinated to damage their business relationships, and now we're both liable for three-quarters of a million dollars I definitely don't have.
" I sank onto a stool, suddenly dizzy. "This is fine.
Everything's fine. I'm just being sued for more money than I'll earn in my entire life for the crime of—checks notes: having my bakery saved from fraud. "
"Can they even do this?"
"Apparently yes, because it's happening right now in my hands in legal document form." I flipped to the injunction request. "And they want to stop us from talking about the fraud publicly. Want to silence us so we can't defend ourselves or tell people what actually happened."
My brain, which had been trying very hard to stay calm and rational, chose that moment to completely abandon ship.
Where is Ethan?
He should have warned me this was coming. Should have texted, called, sent a carrier pigeon—something.
And suddenly a terrible, horrible, absolutely awful thought crept in: What if he took the settlement?
What if Marcus had offered Ethan a deal—save yourself, throw Maya under the bus, walk away clean—and Ethan had decided self-preservation trumped love?
"No," I said out loud, startling both myself and Tessa. "No, he wouldn't do that. He literally destroyed his career to protect this bakery. He wouldn't abandon me now."
"Of course he wouldn't—"
"But then where is he? Why hasn't he called? Why didn't he warn me about this lawsuit?" My voice was getting higher, which was never a good sign. "What if the two days of silence is because he made a choice he knows I won't forgive?"
"Maya, you're spiraling—"
"I'm spiraling because I'm being sued for three-quarters of a million dollars and my boyfriend has vanished!" I grabbed my phone, pulling up Ethan's contact. "I'm calling him. Right now. And he better have a really good explanation."
The call went straight to voicemail. Of course it did.
“You’ve reached Ethan Caldwell. I'm unavailable right now—"
I hung up before the beep, fighting the urge to throw my phone across the room.
"Okay," Tessa said carefully, using her 'Maya is losing it' voice. "Let's think about this logically. What's more likely: Ethan suddenly became a heartless monster who abandoned you after weeks of fighting for you, or there's a reasonable explanation for the silence?"
"Reasonable explanations would involve communication."
"Not if he's in the kind of meetings where phones aren't allowed. Not if he's been in nonstop prosecutor prep with no breaks." She grabbed my shoulders. "You're scared. I get it. But don't let fear make you doubt him. He's proven who he is."
She was right. I knew she was right. But knowing and feeling were two very different things when you're holding documents that could destroy your entire life.
I called Richard Sterling, because if anyone would know what was actually happening, it would be him.
He answered on the second ring. "Maya. I was just about to call you—"
"Did you know about this?" I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Did you know Marcus was adding me to his lawsuit?"
"I received a copy this morning. I'm already preparing a response—"
"That's not what I asked." My voice cracked despite my best efforts to sound strong and professional. "I asked if you knew this was coming. If Ethan knew. If anyone thought to warn me before I got blindsided by FedEx."
"Maya—"
"Because from where I'm standing, it looks like everyone knew except me.
And Ethan hasn't called in two days, hasn't texted, hasn't given me any heads up that my entire life is about to be destroyed.
So I need you to tell me right now: Did he take Marcus's settlement?
Did he throw me under the bus to save himself? "
The question tasted like betrayal even as I asked it.
"What? No. Absolutely not." Richard's voice was firm, almost offended on Ethan's behalf. "Maya, Ethan would never—"
"Then where is he? Why hasn't he contacted me?"
"He's been in meetings with the county prosecutor for forty-eight hours straight.
Nonstop. Building the criminal fraud case.
" Richard's tone gentled. "They're working around the clock because the prosecutor wants to file charges before the ethics investigation concludes.
Ethan's been in conference rooms with no phone access, eating takeout at midnight, sleeping on a couch in the prosecutor's office.
He's exhausted and stressed and worried sick about not being able to contact you. "
Oh.
Oh no.
The terrible suspicion in my chest started to thaw, replaced immediately by crushing guilt.
"He's building the case?" My voice came out small.
"He's spending every waking hour making sure the criminal prosecution succeeds.
Making sure you're protected permanently, not just temporarily.
" Richard paused. "He asked me to call you this morning.
Asked me to explain what's happening, make sure you know he hasn't disappeared or abandoned you.
He's fighting for you, Maya. That's all he's been doing. "
I closed my eyes, shame washing over me in waves. "I thought he'd taken the settlement. I thought he chose his career over protecting me."
"That's exactly what Marcus wants you to think. It's why he filed the amended lawsuit while Ethan was unreachable—to make you doubt him. To isolate you both." Richard's voice hardened. "Don't give Marcus that satisfaction. Ethan loves you. Everything he's doing is to protect you. Trust that."
After hanging up, I sat in my bakery office, surrounded by heart-shaped decorations for Sweetheart Week, feeling like the worst person in the world.
"So?" Tessa prompted gently.
"He's with the prosecutor. Building the criminal case. That's why he hasn't called." I looked at my best friend. "I almost didn't trust him. I actually thought—for like twenty minutes—that he'd betrayed me."
"Twenty minutes of panic doesn't erase weeks of trust." Tessa sat beside me. "You were scared. You received a devastating lawsuit with no warning. You're human. Cut yourself some slack."
"He's going to think I don't believe in him."