Chapter 3 - The Broken Cane
Claire pressed send.
Richard entered the room as the message disappeared from the screen.
He saw her face.
Then the phone.
"What did you do?"
Claire slid the phone behind her back.
"Get out."
Richard closed the door.
Unlike Diane, Richard never disguised anger with concern.
He believed authority should look like authority.
His shoulders squared.
His jaw set.
His voice dropped.
"Give me the phone."
"No."
"Claire."
"You forged my signature."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"I have copies."
Richard took one step toward her.
Claire stepped backward.
Pain shot through her hip.
She tightened her grip on the cane.
"Where are they?"
"Somewhere you can't reach."
He smiled.
Claire hated that smile.
It meant he thought the conversation had ended.
"You always mistake documents for power," he said.
"They tend to matter in court."
"You think I haven't kept this family alive?"
"By stealing from the foundation?"
His face twitched.
Claire knew she had struck the truth.
Richard glanced toward the hallway.
"Your grandmother built a structure designed by people who never had to survive a recession."
"You transferred scholarship money into Lakeside."
"Lakeside would have saved the company."
"It lost eighteen million dollars."
"It will recover."
"You forged my approval."
"I protected your future."
Claire almost laughed.
"My future?"
"Your child will inherit a functioning company instead of a pile of legal restrictions created by a dead woman."
"She created those restrictions because she knew you."
Richard moved faster than Claire expected.
He grabbed for the phone.
Claire twisted away.
Her foot slipped.
The cane caught her weight.
Richard seized it.
"Let go."
"Give me the phone."
"Let go of my cane."
He pulled.
Claire held on.
The wood strained between them.
"Richard."
Diane stood in the doorway.
For one second Claire felt relief.
Then she saw her mother's expression.
Not horror.
Impatience.
"Stop making noise," Diane said.
Claire stared at her.
"Help me."
Diane looked down the hallway.
"Guests will start arriving in a few hours."
Richard yanked again.
The cane cracked.
Claire fell against the dresser.
Her forehead struck the corner.
Pain flashed white.
She heard Diane gasp.
Warmth touched Claire's brow.
She lifted her fingers.
A small amount of blood stained them.
Richard stared at the broken cane in his hands.
For perhaps half a second he looked shocked.
Then he said, "Look what you made me do."
Claire closed her eyes.
There were sentences a person heard once and remembered forever.
That would be one of them.
Diane hurried forward with a clean cloth.
"Sit down."
"Don't touch me."
"You're bleeding."
"Don't touch me."
Diane pressed the cloth against Claire's forehead anyway.
Claire slapped her hand away.
Richard bent for the phone.
Claire grabbed it first.
She checked the message.
Sent.
A strange calm passed through her.
Ethan had the photographs.
Maybe he would read them.
Maybe he would ask questions.
Maybe the lie was already cracking.
Richard noticed her expression.
"What?"
Claire said nothing.
He took the phone.
This time she could not stop him.
He opened the messages.
The screen showed no conversation with Ethan because Claire had sent it through an encrypted work contact address she had found on his business card.
Richard checked her recent texts.
Nothing.
He tossed the phone to Diane.
"Keep it."
Claire looked toward the broken cane.
"You assaulted a pregnant woman."
Richard snorted.
"I took a stick away from my daughter while she was having a tantrum."
"My forehead is bleeding."
"You fell."
"Because you broke my cane."
"No one saw that."
Claire looked at Diane.
Her mother lowered her eyes.
That hurt more than Richard's words.
Diane had seen.
Diane would lie.
Claire slowly rose using the dresser.
"Move."
Richard blocked the door.
"I'm leaving."
"No."
Claire's voice sharpened.
"Move."
"You are going to rest."
"I am going to a hospital."
Diane glanced at Richard.
They exchanged something without words.
Claire saw it.
And suddenly she understood that this had gone beyond intimidation.
They had a plan.
"What are you doing?"
Diane attempted a soothing smile.
"Nobody is doing anything."
"Why was there funeral fabric in the hall?"
Richard's face changed.
It was small.
But Claire saw.
Her pulse jumped.
The Whitmores owned several properties.
One was an old funeral home Richard had bought as part of a redevelopment deal.
The business itself had been closed for years.
But the family still owned two hearses stored in an outbuilding because Richard planned to sell them to a collector.
Claire stared at him.
"Why is there a hearse here?"
Diane spoke too quickly.
"There isn't."
Claire pushed past Richard.
He caught her arm.
She screamed.
Diane closed the door.
"Stop."
Claire looked from one parent to the other.
"What are you planning?"
Richard released her.
"Nothing permanent."
The words were quiet.
Claire stopped breathing.
Diane turned sharply.
"Richard."
"What?"
"Don't say it like that."
Claire backed toward the wall.
Her hand covered her belly.
"What does that mean?"
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"We need tonight to happen."
Claire stared at him.
"You are insane."
"We need four hours."
"For what?"
"For you not to ruin your sister's life."
Claire reached for the lamp.
Not as a weapon.
As something to throw through the window.
Richard saw.
He crossed the room and took it from her.
Claire screamed.
"Help!"
Diane grabbed her.
"Stop it."
"Help me!"
Richard shut the curtains.
Claire fought.
Her body could not match theirs.
Pregnancy had shifted her balance.
Pain weakened her left side.
Without the cane she had almost no leverage.
"Get off me."
Diane cried now.
Real tears.
That made it worse.
"I'm sorry."
Claire stared at her.
"Then stop."
Diane shook her head.
"We can't."
Richard opened the bedroom door.
Vanessa stood there.
She had already changed into the pale cream dress for the engagement photographs.
Her eyes moved from the blood on Claire's forehead to the broken cane in Richard's hand.
"What happened?"
Claire spoke first.
"Dad attacked me."
Vanessa looked at Richard.
Richard said, "She fell."
Claire laughed.
"Of course."
Vanessa's gaze dropped to the phone in Diane's hand.
"Did she contact Ethan?"
"We don't know," Diane said.
Vanessa's face changed.
That was when Claire understood her sister was not an innocent beneficiary of the plan.
She was part of it.
Vanessa entered and closed the door.
"Where did you put the originals?"
Claire stared at her.
"Go to hell."
Vanessa's voice became colder.
"Where are the originals, Claire?"
"What did Dad promise you?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with anger.
"Half of what was always supposed to be mine."
"It already is half yours."
"Not if you destroy the company."
"The company destroyed itself."
"You always do this."
"Do what?"
"Stand there like Grandma chose you because you were better."
Claire stared at her sister.
"No. Grandma chose me because you never showed up."
Vanessa slapped her.
Diane gasped.
Richard did nothing.
Claire's head turned with the impact.
The cloth slipped.
A small streak of blood touched Vanessa's dress.
Vanessa looked down.
For one stunned second, nobody moved.
Then Vanessa screamed.
"My dress."
Claire stared at her.
Vanessa's hands shook.
"You got blood on my engagement dress."
Claire almost could not believe what she was hearing.
"You're angry about the dress?"
"You did that on purpose."
"You hit me."
Vanessa grabbed Claire's shoulders.
"Tonight was supposed to be mine."
Claire shoved her away.
Vanessa stumbled.
Richard stepped between them.
"Enough."
Claire pointed at Vanessa's skirt.
"Look at yourself."
Vanessa's face twisted.
"Get her out of this house."
Diane whispered, "Vanessa."
"I mean it. Ethan cannot see her like this."
Richard looked toward the window.
Then at his watch.
Then at Claire.
Something settled in his expression.
"Fine."
Claire felt the room go cold.
Richard turned to Diane.
"Bring the cloth."
Then to Vanessa.
"Open the back gate."
Claire backed against the dresser.
"No."
May you like
Richard picked up the two halves of the broken cane.
"You're going somewhere quiet."
