Chapter 8 - the night claire stopped believing him
Richard returned to the apartment at midnight.
Claire was waiting in the dark.
The leather pouch rested inside a locked suitcase beneath the bed. The cassette tape was hidden elsewhere. She had placed the second bracelet inside the lining of her coat.
Richard turned on the light.
“You disappeared.”
“So did you.”
“I went to work.”
“You accessed the hotel archive.”
His expression changed only slightly.
“Daniel has been speaking to you.”
“He found the tracker in my car.”
Richard placed his keys on the table.
“I installed it for your safety.”
“Without telling me?”
“You’re pregnant. You’ve been driving around the city, meeting people involved in a decades-old criminal investigation.”
“You knew who I was before you married me.”
Richard looked tired rather than surprised.
“Miriam told you that.”
“She said you came to her house three days before our wedding.”
“I wanted to know why she objected to our marriage.”
“She didn’t object.”
“She did privately.”
“That isn’t what she said.”
“Claire, Miriam lied to you your entire life.”
“And you didn’t?”
Richard walked toward the kitchen.
Claire stepped in front of him.
“Why did you want my bracelet?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why did you tell me not to wear it near Eleanor?”
“Because I knew it resembled the bracelet in the fire photographs.”
“How?”
“My father kept old case files.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have done exactly what you’re doing now.”
“What am I doing?”
“Destroying your life over a fantasy.”
Claire stared at him.
Richard softened his voice.
“You want Eleanor Waverly to be your mother because it gives meaning to everything you suffered. I understand that.”
“You forged a DNA report.”
His silence lasted half a second too long.
Claire felt something inside her break.
Not love.
The belief that love had ever existed.
Richard walked closer.
“You are under stress.”
“Do not touch me.”
“I am your husband.”
“That doesn’t give you ownership of me.”
His jaw tightened.
“The report protected you.”
“From what?”
“From people who will use you to control the Waverly trust.”
“People like you?”
Richard stepped back.
“You have no idea what you’ve entered.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
Claire moved toward the bedroom.
Richard blocked the doorway.
“What did you find at the station?”
“Nothing.”
“Daniel saw a photograph.”
“Then ask Daniel.”
“I’m asking my wife.”
Claire looked into the face of the man she had shared a home with for three years.
For the first time, she saw no trace of the charming stranger from the charity auction.
Only calculation.
“Move.”
“Give me the key.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Move.”
Richard reached for her coat pocket.
Claire slapped his hand away.
His expression turned cold.
“You think Eleanor will welcome you? You think she will place a crown on your head and apologize for twenty-seven years?”
“I want the truth.”
“The truth is that powerful families do not lose children by accident.”
Claire’s breath caught.
“You know what happened.”
“I know enough to understand that the person who saved you may not have been saving you at all.”
“What does that mean?”
Richard looked toward her bracelet.
“Ask Miriam why she received payments for eighteen years.”
Claire froze.
“What payments?”
“Monthly transfers from a Vale-controlled account.”
“You’re lying.”
“Check the records.”
He stepped aside.
Claire entered the bedroom and locked the door.
Her hands shook as she called Miriam.
No answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Then a message appeared from an unknown number.
Your foster mother left the hospital forty minutes ago.
She did not leave alone.
Attached was a security image.
Miriam sat in a wheelchair near the hospital’s side entrance.
Behind her stood Richard’s father, Graham Vale.
The man Richard claimed could barely remember his own name.
May you like
Graham was looking directly into the camera.
And in his hand was the metal box stolen from Miriam’s kitchen.
