Chapter 9 - The Sister Behind the Camera
Vanessa stared at the photograph.
Her own reflection was faint but unmistakable.
I enlarged it.
“You followed me.”
She crossed her arms.
“You were acting suspicious.”
“I was meeting an estate attorney.”
“You hid it from Michael.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Because I discovered money missing from my trust.”
Michael’s head snapped toward me.
That was the secret I had kept.
Four months earlier, my accountant noticed irregularities involving a family trust my grandmother had established.
Nearly $400,000 had disappeared over six years.
The withdrawals had been authorized through documents carrying my electronic signature.
I knew I had never approved them.
So I quietly hired attorney Evelyn Shaw.
The hotel meeting was with Evelyn’s forensic accountant.
Michael believed I was having an affair.
Or perhaps he only wanted Noah to believe that.
“I knew somebody was stealing from me.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“I just didn’t know it was family.”
Vanessa smiled without humor.
“You still don’t understand.”
She turned toward Michael.
“Tell her.”
Michael rubbed his face.
“Not now.”
“Tell her whose account the trust money went into.”
I looked between them.
Michael refused.
Daniel stepped in.
“We can subpoena the records.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You won’t need to.”
She pulled out her phone.
Michael lunged toward her.
Daniel blocked him.
Vanessa opened a banking screenshot.
The transfers from my trust had gone into a company called LARKIN CONSULTING.
I did not recognize it.
Then Patricia whispered.
“Oh, God.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She stared at Michael.
“Larkin was Rebecca’s maiden name.”
“Who is Rebecca?”
Nobody answered.
My stomach tightened.
“Who is Rebecca?”
Vanessa finally said it.
“Michael’s girlfriend.”
The room disappeared around me.
For fifteen years, I had tolerated financial stress, long work trips, late meetings, missed birthdays, and endless excuses.
I had suspected business problems.
I had never suspected another woman.
“How long?”
Michael looked at the floor.
Vanessa answered.
“Six years.”
I laughed once because the alternative was screaming.
“Six years.”
Michael stepped toward me.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
I stared at him.
“Please explain what a six-year girlfriend is supposed to be.”
He had no answer.
Then Vanessa delivered the cruelest part.
“Rebecca has a son.”
Michael closed his eyes.
Patricia started sobbing.
I already knew.
I knew before anyone said the words.
“How old?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Five.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Rachel caught my arm.
Michael finally spoke.
“Claire.”
I raised my hand.
“Do not say my name.”
He stopped.
Every memory from the last six years rearranged itself.
Every conference.
Every overnight meeting.
Every strange charge.
Every missed family weekend.
Then I remembered the plane tickets.
Denver.
I looked at Michael.
“Does Rebecca live in Denver?”
He did not answer.
Vanessa did.
May you like
“Yes.”
And suddenly I understood where Michael intended to take my children.
