Chương 8
I listened.
"There were transfers."
"To who?"
A pause.
Then she said a name.
A name I had never heard before.
"Julian's biological mother."
I frowned.
"That's impossible."
Rebecca's voice softened.
"Claire, there is something you need to understand."
"What?"
"Julian's mother may still be alive."
The road ahead seemed to disappear for a second.
I pulled over.
The car behind me honked.
I barely noticed.
"Julian's mother died."
"That is what Eleanor claimed."
The same sentence.
Another lie.
Another piece of a life built on false information.
"Rebecca."
"Yes?"
"Why would Eleanor say that?"
The silence lasted longer this time.
"Because if Julian's mother was alive, she could have challenged everything Eleanor did."
I looked back at Leo.
He was sleeping peacefully.
Unaware that every adult around him had secrets.
"Where is she?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"We're trying to confirm her location."
"Trying?"
"Claire, the records were hidden for decades."
I closed my eyes.
The storm was over.
But somehow, I felt like I was still standing outside in the rain.
"Find her," I said.
Rebecca was quiet.
"You are sure?"
I looked at my son.
At the child everyone had fought over without ever asking what he needed.
"Yes."
My voice steadied.
"I spent years being told pieces of my own life."
I started the car again.
"I want the whole truth."
I want the whole truth.
For the first time in weeks, I did not feel afraid of what the truth might take away.
Maybe because I had already lost the life I thought I had.
There was something strangely freeing about reaching the point where another secret could not hurt as much as the ones already uncovered.
Rebecca called me two days later.
She did not waste time with small talk.
"We found her."
I was standing in the nursery with Leo on my hip.
My other hand was folding tiny clothes that he would outgrow before he had a chance to wear half of them.
"Julian's mother?"
"Yes."
I sat down slowly.
"Where?"
"Vermont."
The answer surprised me.
"She has been living there for years under her maiden name."
I looked at the window.
Snow had started falling outside.
A quiet, ordinary afternoon.
It felt strange that something so enormous could happen on a day when the world looked so normal.
"Does she know about Julian?"
Rebecca paused.
"Claire."
That pause told me everything.
"What?"
"She knows he died."
My chest tightened.
"Then why didn't she come?"
Another pause.
"Because she was told you wanted nothing to do with her."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Another lie.
Another person separated from the truth because Eleanor had decided who belonged and who did not.
"What did she believe?"
"She believed Julian cut contact with his family after a disagreement."
I looked down at Leo.
"That's not true."
"No."
Rebecca's voice softened.
"It appears Eleanor created a completely different story for both sides."
I thought about that.
Not just stealing money.
Not just hiding inheritance.
She had rewritten people's relationships.
She had decided who could love whom.
That felt more cruel than the money.
Money could be counted.
Lost years could not.
Arthur offered to come with me when I traveled to Vermont.
I almost refused.
The instinct was automatic.
I had spent so much time handling everything alone that accepting help felt dangerous.
But then Leo grabbed Arthur's finger during breakfast.
Arthur froze.
It was such a small thing.
A baby holding onto a grandfather he had just met.
Yet Arthur looked like someone had handed him something priceless.
"I would like to meet her," he said quietly.
I nodded.
"Okay."
The drive took several hours.
Arthur sat in the passenger seat while I drove.
It was one of the few times I saw him without other people around.
No attorneys.
No assistants.
No employees.
Just a man staring out the window.
"You are quiet," I said.
He smiled faintly.
"I am trying not to give you unwanted advice."
I glanced at him.
"That is very unlike a wealthy man."
He laughed.
A real laugh.
"You have a low opinion of wealthy men."
"I have had a difficult month."
"Fair."
The conversation faded.
Not awkwardly.
Comfortably.
At a small diner halfway there, we stopped for lunch.
Nobody recognized Arthur.
Nobody cared who he was.
The waitress forgot his coffee twice.
She apologized both times.
Arthur thanked her both times.
I watched him.
"You are not what I expected."
He looked amused.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know."
I smiled slightly.
"Someone more terrifying."
He considered that.
"My employees would be disappointed."
"Why?"
"Because they work very hard to maintain my reputation."
I laughed.
It surprised me.
The sound felt unfamiliar.
For a moment, I was not a woman whose marriage had collapsed.
I was just a person eating lunch with someone who happened to be my son's grandfather.
The normal moment ended when we reached Vermont.
Julian's mother lived in a small white house at the edge of town.
Nothing about it suggested wealth.
There was a garden.
A wooden porch.
A wind chime moving softly in the cold air.
Arthur stood beside me before we walked up the steps.
"You do not have to do this today."
I looked at him.
"Yes, I do."
He nodded.
Not because he agreed.
Because he respected the decision.
The woman who answered the door was older than I expected.
Her hair was silver.
Her face carried the kind of lines that came from years of ordinary living.
She looked at us with confusion.
Then her eyes moved to Leo.
Everything changed.
Not recognition.
Something else.
Pain.
"Who are you?"
Her voice was cautious.
I swallowed.
"My name is Claire."
The woman looked at me.
"I was married to Julian."
The color left her face.
She stepped backward.
"No."
Arthur moved forward slightly.
"My name is Arthur Sterling."
Her hand went to the doorframe.
For a second, I thought she might fall.
May you like
"Arthur?"
The way she said his name was not fear.
