Chương 8
But he knew avoidance was how the problem had grown.
So he stayed.
The room was smaller than the one they had used earlier.
A simple table.
Four chairs.
A window overlooking the city.
No flowers.
No decorations.
Nothing pretending the day was something it was not.
Claire's name appeared on Thomas's phone screen several times through old messages he had never opened.
He scrolled slowly.
Most were ordinary.
Questions about Toby.
Short updates.
Pictures of the boy holding a school project.
One message stopped him.
Three weeks earlier.
Claire had written, "Can we talk when you have time?"
That was all.
No explanation.
No urgency.
Thomas stared at it.
Three weeks.
He had seen the message.
He remembered that now.
He had been leaving a business dinner when it came through.
He had planned to respond later.
Then Evelyn had called.
Then another issue at work happened.
Then the message disappeared beneath everything else.
He had not ignored Claire because he did not care.
That was what made it worse.
He had ignored her because he believed there would always be more time.
Genevieve noticed his expression.
"What is it?"
Thomas turned the phone around.
She read the message.
Her face changed.
"You saw that?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
Genevieve looked away.
The disappointment on her face was quiet.
That made it harder to handle.
"I thought maybe she never reached you."
Thomas placed the phone down.
"I thought I had more time."
Nobody answered.
Because everyone understood that sentence.
People used it every day.
With parents.
With friends.
With the people they loved.
More time.
Always more time.
Evelyn sat across from them.
She had not spoken much since the ballroom.
Thomas noticed that she kept looking at Toby.
Not at him.
Not at Genevieve.
The child.
"Why did you ask Claire about my accounts?" Thomas asked.
Evelyn looked down.
"I wanted to know what kind of person you were."
Thomas frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does to me."
She looked tired.
"When I met you, everyone told me about your success."
She gave a small smile.
"They told me how much money you had."
"I never cared about that."
"I know."
The answer came quickly.
"And that scared me."
Thomas studied her.
"Why?"
"Because people who have nothing to lose can be dangerous."
Genevieve looked confused.
"What does that mean?"
Evelyn rubbed her thumb against her palm.
"I grew up watching people pretend they were fine until something happened."
She paused.
"My father lost everything when I was a teenager."
Nobody knew that.
Another piece of a person who had seemed complete.
"He had a business."
She looked at Thomas.
"He built it himself."
Thomas understood immediately.
"He lost it?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"He refused help."
The room became quiet.
"He thought accepting help meant admitting failure."
Evelyn looked at Toby.
"I hated watching that."
Thomas leaned back.
"So you became afraid of needing anyone."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"And that made you do things that hurt people."
Her eyes closed briefly.
"Yes."
The honesty did not erase anything.
But it changed the shape of the anger.
Thomas had spent the day searching for a simple answer.
He wanted one person to blame.
One person to remove from his life.
Instead, he had found something much more difficult.
A person who had done wrong.
A person who was also wounded.
Both things were true.
That was the part people hated most about reality.
"Claire said you didn't plan to hurt her," Thomas said.
Evelyn looked surprised.
"She said that?"
"Yes."
A tear appeared in Evelyn's eye.
She wiped it away immediately.
"She was kinder than I deserved."
Thomas looked at her.
"Then why didn't you stop?"
Evelyn did not answer.
The silence lasted long enough that Thomas thought she might refuse.
Then she said, "Because every time I tried to fix one thing, I had to admit the next thing."
She looked at the table.
"I had to admit I lied."
A pause.
"Then I had to admit I stole."
Another pause.
"Then I had to admit I was afraid."
Her voice became quieter.
"And I kept thinking if I could just get past one more day, I could undo everything."
Thomas looked toward the window.
The city lights blurred slightly through the glass.
He wondered how many people below were doing the same thing.
Carrying one mistake into the next day.
Hoping time would repair what honesty should have repaired.
"What happened the night Claire fell?" he asked again.
Evelyn took a breath.
"I went there because she called me."
Thomas looked at her sharply.
"She called you?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"That evening."
"Why didn't you say that before?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"That you would think I was lying."
Thomas almost said she was.
Then he stopped.
Because he realized something.
He did not know.
Not completely.
Evelyn continued.
"She told me someone had accessed her accounts."
Thomas frowned.
"Someone?"
"She didn't know who."
"Did she think it was you?"
Evelyn looked down.
"She suspected."
"What did you say?"
"I denied it."
"And?"
"She said she wanted to meet in person."
Thomas looked at the USB drive.
"Why record that video?"
"I don't know."
Evelyn looked at it.
"Maybe she was afraid she would forget details."
"Or maybe she was afraid something would happen."
Evelyn did not respond.
That silence was uncomfortable.
Because it left space for possibilities.
Thomas hated possibilities.
He preferred facts.
But life rarely offered them when people needed them most.
Genevieve stood and walked to the window.
"I need to tell you something."
Thomas looked at her.
She seemed nervous.
More nervous than she had been all day.
"What?"
She stared outside.
"Claire wasn't the only person who knew about Evelyn's debt."
Thomas waited.
"I knew."
The words landed quietly.
Thomas stared.
"You knew?"
Genevieve turned around.
"Not everything."
"How much?"
"Enough."
His disappointment appeared before he could hide it.
Genevieve saw.
May you like
"I was trying to help."
"By keeping it from me?"
