Chương 8
Maya did not argue.
That was the right choice.
When we arrived at Olivia’s house, she opened the door before we knocked.
She must have been watching from the window.
Olivia had always been like that.
She pretended not to worry while making sure there was extra food in the refrigerator.
She looked at me once and immediately pulled me into a careful hug.
Not too tight.
She knew about the pregnancy.
She knew about Ethan.
She knew enough.
“You look terrible,” she whispered.
I almost smiled.
“That’s your greeting?”
“It is.”
She pulled back.
“Because if I say you look strong, you’ll pretend you don’t need anything.”
I looked at Maya.
Even she almost smiled.
Olivia noticed.
“Who is this?”
“Maya Chen.”
“My attorney.”
Olivia looked between us.
“Should I be scared?”
“Yes,” Maya said.
Olivia blinked.
At least she was honest.
“I appreciate the warning.”
Inside, Olivia’s house felt exactly the same as it had five years ago.
Books everywhere.
Plants that were somehow still alive despite her forgetting to water them.
A blanket folded over the couch.
A half-finished mug of tea on the kitchen counter.
Normal things.
Beautifully normal things.
I stood there and felt the difference.
At home, every object reminded me of Ethan.
Here, nothing demanded that I remember loss.
I hated how comforting that was.
Olivia made me sit at the kitchen table.
“I’m making food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That was not a question.”
“I really don’t need—”
“Claire.”
I stopped.
Olivia rarely used my name like that.
“You have spent eleven days telling everyone you’re okay.”
I looked down.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
She opened the refrigerator.
“Because you do it every time.”
“Every time what?”
“Every time something hurts.”
The answer bothered me because it was accurate.
I had always been the person who handled things.
At work.
With family.
With friends.
People trusted me because I was reliable.
The problem was that eventually everyone forgot reliable people got tired too.
Maya placed the folder on the table.
“We need to discuss next steps.”
Olivia glanced at her.
“Can she have dinner first?”
Maya looked surprised.
Then she nodded.
“Yes.”
That small moment almost made me cry.
Not because it was emotional.
Because it was ordinary.
Someone cared whether I had eaten.
The next morning, I woke up before sunrise.
For several seconds, I forgot where I was.
Then I reached across the bed.
The empty space reminded me.
The grief came differently each time.
Sometimes it was a wave.
Sometimes it was a sharp pain.
Sometimes it was simply the realization that there was a person missing from every future moment.
I sat up slowly.
My phone had fourteen notifications.
Three from Maya.
Two from Olivia.
Nine from unknown numbers.
I did not open those.
Not yet.
The internet had found out.
Not the truth.
A version.
A neighbor had posted about federal agents arriving at my house.
Someone had added a comment about “family disputes.”
Someone else claimed Ethan’s estate was being contested.
The story was spreading.
I locked my phone.
Then another message appeared.
From Michael.
Claire, please answer.
I need to explain.
I stared at the screen.
For a long time.
Then I called.
He answered immediately.
“Claire.”
His voice sounded broken.
Not guilty.
Broken.
“Why was your name attached to the access request?”
Silence.
That was enough to tell me he knew exactly what I meant.
“Michael.”
“I didn’t do it.”
The speed of the answer almost made me believe him.
Almost.
“Then explain.”
He breathed in.
“I found out Ethan was investigating Richard.”
I closed my eyes.
“When?”
“A month before he died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Ethan asked me not to.”
The same words.
Again.
Everyone had an excuse.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had protected me by keeping me outside the truth.
“Michael.”
“Yes?”
“Did you access Ethan’s office?”
“No.”
“Did you request a code reset using my identity?”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
Then softer.
“But I know who did.”
I sat completely still.
“Who?”
Michael hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I heard fear.
Not uncertainty.
Fear.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“The person who did this was not trying to steal Ethan’s money.”
I waited.
“They were trying to make sure you inherited nothing.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who?”
Michael’s voice dropped.
“The person who helped Ethan build the trust.”
I felt cold.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
“Michael.”
He swallowed.
“Claire, you need to leave Olivia’s house.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“Because if they know I talked to you, you won’t be the only person they try to destroy.”
The line went silent.
Then he said the one sentence that changed everything.
“The person behind this has been inside your life for years.”
The person who helped Ethan build the trust had been inside my life for years.
I stayed silent after Michael said it.
Not because I did not have questions.
Because suddenly I had too many.
My mind moved through every person who had been close enough to know our lives.
Friends.
Advisors.
Family.
People who had sat at our table and listened to conversations they had no right to remember.
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me who.”
A long pause followed.
“I can’t say over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who has access to what anymore.”
The fear in his voice made my skin tighten.
Michael had always been cautious.
Sometimes too cautious.
He was the kind of person who read every contract twice and saved receipts for things nobody else would bother returning.
If he was afraid, there was a reason.
“Where are you?”
“At my apartment.”
“Are you alone?”
Another pause.
“No.”
The answer chilled me.
“Who is there?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood from the bed.
“Michael.”
“Claire, listen to me.”
His voice became urgent.
“Do not come here.”
“Then where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
That was the first time I heard him admit helplessness.
The call ended before either of us said goodbye.
