Chương 6
“I’m sorry, but I am getting tired of people knowing pieces while I’m the person standing in the middle of the explosion.”
Rebecca did not argue.
That made me feel worse.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do more than you think.”
The confidence in her voice stopped me.
“Why?”
“Because I helped build the structure.”
The room went still.
“You helped him?”
“I helped him because I believed what he told me.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was protecting assets.”
“For who?”
“For you.”
I almost dropped the phone.
“What?”
“He said you were vulnerable.”
The anger arrived so quickly that I had to sit down.
“Vulnerable?”
“He said you didn’t understand finances.”
I stared at the kitchen counter.
The same counter where Eleanor had made coffee every morning.
The same counter where Julian had leaned casually while telling me not to worry about money.
“He said he was organizing things because he cared about you.”
I swallowed.
“He was stealing from me.”
Rebecca did not correct me.
“That is what I eventually realized.”
“Eventually?”
“Yes.”
I looked down at the papers on the table.
“How long ago?”
“Three months.”
My hand froze.
“Three months?”
“That’s when I found irregular transfers.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rebecca exhaled.
“Because I was afraid.”
The answer again.
Fear.
Everyone was afraid.
Everyone except the person causing the damage.
“What happened three months ago?”
“Julian asked me to backdate documents.”
The word hung there.
“Backdate.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To make it appear that you had approved certain transactions.”
My chest tightened.
“Did he forge my signature?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I saw copies of documents with what looked like your signature.”
I stood again.
My hands had started shaking.
“Where are those documents?”
“I don’t have them.”
“Who does?”
“Julian.”
Of course.
The person with the evidence was the person who needed it hidden.
“Why are you calling me now?”
Rebecca became quiet.
This silence was different.
This was hesitation.
Not fear.
Regret.
“Because Eleanor called me two weeks ago.”
I stopped moving.
“What?”
“She asked questions.”
“What questions?”
“About Julian’s accounts.”
I looked at the box.
The notebook.
The letter.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“How much did she know?”
“Enough.”
The answer was frustratingly vague.
But somehow, with Eleanor, vague words often carried precise meaning.
“She asked me if I thought her son was capable of destroying the people closest to him.”
I sat back down.
The sentence hurt.
Because Eleanor had known.
She had been watching her son disappear into someone she no longer recognized.
“What did you say?”
Rebecca’s voice became softer.
“I told her I hoped I was wrong.”
“And?”
“I wasn’t.”
The kitchen felt smaller.
I looked at the silver key sitting beside the box.
Eleanor had spent years preparing for this.
Not because she wanted revenge.
Because she knew denial could be dangerous.
“Claire,” Rebecca said.
“Yes?”
“You need to be careful with what you do next.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian is already moving.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“He contacted the bank yesterday.”
“Why?”
“He said there was a possibility of marital conflict.”
The phrase sounded clinical.
Almost harmless.
Marital conflict.
As if betrayal was a disagreement over furniture.
“What did he tell them?”
“That he was concerned about your emotional state.”
My face went numb.
“He’s trying to make me look unstable.”
“I don’t know exactly what his plan is.”
“Yes, you do.”
Rebecca did not answer.
I looked toward the basement.
Toward the hidden door.
Toward everything Julian had kept from me.
“He’s trying to get ahead of the story.”
“Yes.”
“Because he knows Eleanor left me something.”
“Yes.”
The confirmation made my skin crawl.
“How would he know?”
Another pause.
Then Rebecca said, “Because he called me last night.”
My heart stopped.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether Eleanor had contacted me.”
“And what did you say?”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted time.”
Time.
Everyone wanted time.
But Eleanor had run out of it.
My voice became quieter.
“Rebecca, what else did he ask?”
She hesitated.
Then she said, “He asked if you knew about the account ending in 4421.”
I looked down at the notebook.
There was a page near the back with four numbers circled.
4421.
My fingers went cold.
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“He knows Eleanor documented everything.”
“Yes.”
I closed the notebook.
A decision formed before I had time to be afraid of it.
I had spent years waiting for Julian to explain himself.
Waiting for him to admit things.
Waiting for him to become the person he promised he was.
That person was not coming.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“I need copies of everything you have.”
She went silent.
“That may put you in the middle of this.”
“I’m already in the middle.”
“No, Claire.”
Her voice changed.
More urgent now.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Julian is not just trying to protect his money.”
The room became quiet.
“He’s trying to protect something else.”
I held my breath.
“What?”
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“The reason he needed all that money in the first place.”
“The reason he needed all that money in the first place.”
I repeated the words silently.
They felt heavier each time.
“Rebecca,” I said, “what are you saying?”
“I’m saying the accounts were not just about debt.”
“Then what were they about?”
She hesitated.
I hated that hesitation.
It was the same pause everyone seemed to take before handing me another piece of a life I had been excluded from.
“I need to show you something in person.”
“No.”
The answer came faster than I expected.
Rebecca went quiet.
“I’m not waiting anymore,” I said.
“Claire—”
“No.”
I looked at Eleanor’s box sitting on the table.
“I spent years waiting for people to tell me the truth when it was convenient for them.”
My voice shook, but I continued.
“That is over.”
The silence on the other end lasted several seconds.
May you like
Then Rebecca said, “There is a storage unit.”
I frowned.
