Chương 6
Paul raised a hand.
“I know.”
Thomas picked up the phone and opened Chloé’s message.
It was longer than the preview.
He read silently.
Then he handed it to Claire.
Dad has been stealing from Mom for years and blaming her for everything.
She only used your money because you told her she could.
You said family money was family money.
She has screenshots.
Do not let him manipulate you because he got caught.
Claire read it twice.
“Did you ever tell your mother family money was family money?”
Thomas frowned.
“No.”
“Anything close?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Maybe when Grandpa died.”
Paul looked up.
Thomas stared toward the living room.
“I told her I wasn’t going to fight over inheritance.”
“When?”
“The week after the funeral.”
“What exactly did you say?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire waited.
Thomas pressed his lips together.
“I said something like, if you need something, take it.”
Paul exhaled.
Thomas looked at him.
“What?”
“That sounds like Marie.”
“What does that mean?”
“She keeps sentences.”
Thomas’s face tightened.
Paul continued.
“Not conversations.”
“Sentences.”
“She remembers the part she can use.”
Claire felt a chill that had nothing to do with the open hallway.
She had seen Marie do that.
A harmless comment at lunch would return six months later as proof of a promise nobody remembered making.
“You said if I needed help.”
“You said you didn’t mind.”
“You said family comes first.”
Marie collected language the way other people collected receipts.
Thomas opened Chloé’s message again.
“She says there are screenshots.”
“Screenshots of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire leaned over.
“Ask.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You want me to respond?”
“I want to know what she thinks she has.”
He typed.
Send them.
The answer came almost immediately.
Chloé was clearly waiting.
Three images appeared.
Thomas opened the first.
It was an old text conversation between him and Marie.
The date was six years earlier.
Claire read over his shoulder.
Marie: I hate asking you this.
Thomas: Then don’t make it weird.
Marie: We are short again this month.
Thomas: How much?
Marie: 1500.
Thomas: Fine.
Marie: I’ll pay you back.
Thomas: Mom, stop.
Thomas: Family money is family money.
Claire looked at him.
Thomas went pale.
“I said it.”
“You did.”
Paul leaned closer.
“That doesn’t mean what she says it means.”
“No.”
Claire handed back the phone.
“But it explains why Chloé believes her.”
The second screenshot was from almost a year later.
Marie: Chloé needs help with her car.
Thomas: How much?
Marie: 900.
Thomas: Just handle it from what I send you.
Marie: Are you sure?
Thomas: Yes.
The third was newer.
Marie: Taxes again.
Thomas: I’ll transfer extra Friday.
Marie: You’re a good son.
Thomas: Just take care of it.
Thomas stared at the screen.
Paul sank back into the chair.
Claire could practically see the story Marie had built around those messages.
Not an obvious fraud.
Something more dangerous.
A version of consent stretched until it covered everything.
Thomas set the phone down.
“She’s going to say I authorized all of it.”
Paul nodded.
“She already is.”
Claire looked at the loan agreement.
“She cannot say he authorized a forged signature.”
Thomas picked it up.
“No.”
Paul’s expression darkened.
“Unless she says you signed it and forgot.”
Thomas looked at him.
“Would she do that?”
Paul gave him a long look.
Claire almost answered for him.
Thomas’s phone rang again.
Chloé this time.
He let it ring.
The call ended.
Another message followed.
Please answer me.
Thomas did not touch the phone.
Claire looked at Paul.
“Why did Chloé need an apartment?”
“She said she wanted something in her name.”
“Was she renting?”
“Yes.”
“Working?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Marie paying?”
Paul’s mouth tightened.
“You know how your mother is about Chloé.”
Thomas gave him a cold look.
“Apparently I don’t know how my mother is about anyone.”
Paul accepted that.
“Chloé had debts.”
“What kind?”
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
“Enough that the bank wouldn’t approve her.”
Thomas rubbed his face.
“So Mom decided I would.”
Paul nodded.
“She said you had money sitting there.”
Claire felt her stomach turn.
“She said that to you?”
“Yes.”
“And you said what?”
Paul looked at her.
“Nothing.”
Claire leaned back.
There it was again.
Not ignorance.
Permission through silence.
Paul looked toward the stairs.
“I kept telling myself Marie was managing things I didn’t understand.”
Thomas’s eyes hardened.
“You mean things you didn’t want to understand.”
“Yes.”
Thomas stood and walked into the living room.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Claire could see the back of him beside the dark Christmas tree.
One string of lights had slipped loose near the bottom.
Léa had insisted on decorating that section herself.
Thomas reached down and straightened it automatically.
Then he stopped with his hand still on the branch.
“My whole life, you told me Mom handled money better than you.”
Paul closed his eyes.
“She did.”
“No.”
Thomas turned.
“She handled people better than you.”
Paul looked at him.
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
The words seemed to hit Paul harder than Thomas intended.
He looked suddenly exhausted.
Claire glanced at the clock.
12:19.
Christmas had ended.
Nothing had improved.
Thomas returned to the table.
“We are not solving this tonight.”
Paul nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m keeping the documents.”
“Yes.”
“I’m calling a lawyer tomorrow.”
Paul looked uneasy but nodded again.
“And I’m calling the lender.”
“Yes.”
Thomas pointed toward his father’s phone.
“You do not delete anything she sends you.”
Paul glanced down.
“I won’t.”
“You do not warn her what I’m doing.”
Paul hesitated.
Thomas saw it.
“Dad.”
“She’s my wife.”
“And I’m your son.”
“I know.”
“That is not an answer.”
Paul rubbed his thumb against the side of the phone.
“If she asks whether I gave you the documents, I’m not going to lie.”
Thomas stared at him.
Claire expected another explosion.
Instead he nodded slowly.
“Fine.”
May you like
Paul looked surprised.
“But you don’t volunteer anything.”
