When the Door Opened, Every Lie in the House Lost Its Place to Hide

Rebecca did not know.

Paige had been kind to her in the early years. She sent ridiculous birthday cards, remembered prenatal appointments, and once drove two hours to bring Emma a stuffed fox she had seen in a store window. She had also spent her life managing Trevor’s moods and calling it loyalty.

“I’ll talk to her alone,” Rebecca said. “Not with Emma.”

Richard opened his mouth.

“Alone.”

He nodded.

Paige waited in the sunroom wearing jeans, a camel coat, and no makeup. She stood when Rebecca entered, then stopped herself from approaching.

“Oh my God,” she said.

Rebecca sat in a chair near the door. “You’ve seen photographs?”

“Trevor said your father exaggerated.”

“My father didn’t hit me.”

Paige’s face tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did Trevor say happened?”

“That you were arguing. You slipped, and he tried to catch you. Then Emma got scared and said something that sounded—” Paige rubbed her palms against her jeans. “She’s four.”

“She watched him hit me.”

Paige looked toward the windows.

“Did he tell you about the loan?” Rebecca asked.

“No.”

“He used the house as collateral.”

Paige turned back. “Can he do that?”

“I don’t know. My name is on documents I don’t remember signing.”

“That sounds like a financial question, not—”

“He hit me because I asked about it.”

Paige’s mouth opened, then closed.

Rebecca watched her search for the version of her brother that could survive both facts.

“He’s under pressure,” Paige said finally.

There it was. The sentence women passed to one another when a man’s behavior became too ugly to name.

“From what?”

“His fund is having problems. Investors are pulling out. There was a deal that was supposed to close, and it didn’t. Richard cut him off from something.”

“My father?”

Paige nodded. “Trevor said Richard had been undermining him for months.”

“Trevor says my father causes rain when his golf game is bad.”

Paige gave a startled laugh. It disappeared immediately, leaving shame behind.

Rebecca touched her lip. “Has he ever hit anyone else?”

“No.”

The answer arrived too quickly.

“Paige.”

“He had a temper when we were kids.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Dad had a temper too. It means boys fight. It means families are complicated.”

“Did he hit you?”

Paige stood and walked to the window. Outside, a groundskeeper pushed a wheelbarrow past the bare rose beds. He glanced toward the glass and away.

“Once,” she said. “He was seventeen. I was twelve. He slapped me because I told our mother he stole money from her purse.”

Rebecca felt something inside her settle.

“What happened?”

“My father made him apologize.”

“And then?”

“And then nothing. He never did it again.”

“You’re defending him.”

“I’m explaining.”

“You’re helping him explain.”

Paige turned. Her eyes were wet but angry. “You think I don’t know what he’s like? I know exactly what he’s like. I also know what your father will do. He will turn this into a war Trevor cannot survive. He will destroy the fund, the house, every relationship, every person who ever stood next to him. And maybe you think that’s justice. Maybe it is. But there are twenty-three employees at the firm. There are families whose savings are tied up in those investments. There’s me. There’s our mother.”

“There’s Emma.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Paige sat down again.

For a while, neither spoke. The house heating clicked inside the wall.

“I came because Trevor asked me to persuade you to say the injury was accidental,” Paige said.

Rebecca had expected it. Hearing it still hurt.

“Are you going to?”

Paige looked at the bruise on Rebecca’s cheek. “No.”

“Will you say that to a lawyer?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my brother.”

“So?”

Paige’s face twisted. “You get to say that because you grew up rich enough to believe leaving is a moral decision. Some of us grew up knowing family is the person who comes when the car won’t start, even if he’s also the reason you hide your purse.”

Rebecca stared at her.

The words were cruel, and partly true. Money had always put an exit within Rebecca’s reach, even when shame kept her from using it. She had mistaken not walking through the door for having no door.

Paige stood.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For what he did. For what I almost came here to do.”

“Will you tell him where we are?”

“He knows where your father lives.”

“Will you tell him anything else?”

Paige picked up her bag. “I don’t know what loyalty looks like this morning.”

“Neither do I.”

At the door, Paige stopped. “The loan papers might be in his black case. He kept it in the study closet, behind the golf bags. He never let anyone touch it.”

“Why are you telling me?”

Paige gave a tired shrug. “Maybe loyalty looks different at ten thirty.”

After she left, Rebecca called Maya Chen.

Maya’s office occupied one floor of a converted warehouse downtown, with exposed brick that seemed chosen to reassure rich clients they were meeting someone practical. She wore a charcoal suit and red-framed glasses and did not react visibly to Rebecca’s injuries.

Richard sat beside Rebecca until Maya asked him to wait outside.

“I’m her father,” he said.

“I gathered that.”

Rebecca almost smiled.

Richard left.

Maya folded her hands on the table. “Your father sent me a summary.”

“I didn’t authorize him to.”

“He disclosed only that there was an arrest, a minor child, a pregnancy, and significant marital assets. I told him I would hear the rest from you or not at all.”

“Good.”

“Do you want a divorce?”

Rebecca looked at the brick wall.