Chapter 2 - THE PROP
Claire noticed the cane leaning beside the front door.
She stared at it while pulling clothes from the dryer.
"Whose is that?"
Ryan was opening mail.
"Mine."
She laughed.
"You are thirty-seven."
"My knee has been bothering me."
Claire glanced at him.
Ryan had never mentioned knee pain.
Diane arrived thirty minutes later.
The moment she saw the cane, she gave Ryan a look so quick Claire almost missed it.
Almost.
That evening they were scheduled to livestream.
Claire had tried to cancel.
"My side hurts."
Ryan frowned.
"People are expecting an update."
"They can wait."
"Claire, we told them today was important."
"You told them."
Diane stepped into the room carrying the phone grip.
"Twenty minutes."
Claire looked at both of them.
"No."
Ryan's expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The softness disappeared.
"We need this."
Claire stood straighter.
"We?"
"The family."
"I am the one sitting on camera."
Ryan lowered his voice.
"And I am the one keeping this house afloat."
The sentence hurt.
Claire went quiet.
Ryan saw it and immediately softened.
"That came out wrong."
Diane turned away, pretending to adjust the phone.
Claire finally agreed.
The livestream began normally.
Ryan spoke about medical uncertainty.
Claire corrected him twice.
"The doctor didn't say the baby is in danger."
Ryan smiled at the camera.
"No, of course not."
Diane shifted the phone closer.
Ryan continued.
"But some issues are still being monitored."
Claire looked at him.
"What issues?"
He ignored the question.
Comments began filling the screen.
Is the baby okay?
Prayers.
Stay strong.
Claire reached toward the phone.
"Stop."
Diane pulled it back.
Ryan squeezed Claire's knee.
"Just finish."
His fingers hurt.
Claire pushed his hand away.
Ryan stood.
The cane was beside him.
He picked it up.
Not because he needed support.
Because the camera could see it.
Claire suddenly understood.
"What are you doing?"
Ryan smiled stiffly.
"Nothing."
Then he struck the carpet beside the sofa.
The sound made Claire jump.
Comments exploded.
What was that?
Is he angry?
Claire stared at him.
Ryan leaned toward her, keeping his voice too low for the microphone.
"Cry."
Her mouth opened.
"What?"
"Your eyes are already wet."
Claire felt cold.
Diane whispered from behind the phone.
"Use it."
Claire stood.
"I'm done."
She walked away.
Ryan ended the stream.
The second the phone went dark, he grabbed Claire's arm.
"What the hell was that?"
She ripped free.
"Don't touch me."
"We had nine hundred people watching."
"I don't care."
"We made eleven hundred dollars."
"Then give it back."
Diane stepped forward.
"Claire, don't be childish."
Claire turned.
"Childish?"
"People donate because they feel involved."
"You were trying to make them think he was threatening me."
Diane shrugged.
"Did we say that?"
Claire looked from mother to son.
"No."
Diane smiled.
"Then calm down."
Ryan placed the cane against the wall.
"Nobody is getting hurt."
Claire stared at it.
That sentence returned to her later.
Nobody is getting hurt.
The next week, Ryan said their insurance appeal had failed.
The week after that, he claimed the doctor wanted Claire evaluated by a private maternal specialist.
"Twelve thousand dollars."
Claire nearly dropped her glass.
"We don't have twelve thousand."
"I know."
"Then we use the hospital."
Ryan shook his head.
"The specialist is better."
"Which specialist?"
"I'll show you the information."
He never did.
Instead, he called Elizabeth.
Claire did not know.
Elizabeth had always liked Ryan.
Not adored him.
But trusted him enough.
When he told her Claire was terrified and too ashamed to ask for help, Elizabeth transferred eighteen thousand dollars.
Six thousand more than the supposed specialist required.
Ryan told her the remaining money would cover follow-up treatment.
He made her promise not to tell Claire.
"She already feels like a burden."
Elizabeth believed him.
That same night Ryan came home carrying flowers.
Claire kissed him.
"What's this for?"
"Because you deserve something good."
Two weeks later he told her they still owed six thousand dollars.
Claire sold her grandmother's jewelry.
Ryan watched her pack the pieces into a small velvet case.
"You don't have to."
"Yes, I do."
Her wedding bracelet.
Her grandmother's pearl earrings.
A gold necklace passed down through three generations.
The buyer paid four thousand eight hundred dollars.
Ryan took the money.
That was the week the staged fear videos became routine.
First came raised voices.
Then the cane hitting furniture.
Then Claire crying because Ryan deliberately frightened her before going live.
Diane called it "authenticity."
Ryan called it "content."
Claire called it over.
But by then, Ryan had learned something important.
May you like
Fear made money.
And he was no longer willing to give it up.
