Chapter 7 - The Signature
My mother swore she hadn't known.
This time, I believed part of her.
She hadn't understood the entire scheme.
But she had signed something.
Trevor had told her it was an affidavit confirming that our marriage had been troubled.
Mom signed without reading carefully.
Just like I had signed documents Trevor placed in front of me.
The difference was motive.
Mine had been trust.
Hers had been favoritism.
The affidavit falsely suggested Trevor and I had lived separately.
"Why?" I asked.
Mom cried across Evelyn's conference table.
"Hailey said they were in love."
"So you helped them?"
"I thought your marriage was ending."
"Because Trevor told you?"
"And Hailey."
I laughed without humor.
"Did anyone think to ask me?"
Nobody answered.
Of course not.
The family pattern had reached its logical conclusion.
Hailey wanted something.
Therefore Claire was expected to give it up.
This time, the something was my husband.
My house.
My business.
My life.
But there was one thing none of them anticipated.
I wasn't participating anymore.
I told my parents not to contact me unless it concerned the investigation.
Mom begged.
Dad apologized.
I walked away.
That evening, I returned to the estate alone.
For years, Trevor had called it our dream home.
Now it felt enormous.
Quiet.
He had been right about one thing.
It was empty.
But empty didn't mean lonely.
Sometimes empty meant peaceful.
I poured a glass of sparkling water and walked onto the terrace.
My phone rang.
Hailey.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
"Claire."
Her voice shook.
"What?"
"Trevor is here."
"At Mom's?"
"Yes."
"What does he want?"
"Me."
I heard shouting behind her.
Then Trevor's voice.
Hailey whispered:
"He's saying if I don't fix this, he'll tell everyone it was my idea."
"Call the police."
"I did."
Then she said something else.
"He has a suitcase."
"What suitcase?"
"The black one from Vegas."
My body went still.
"What about it?"
"I opened it."
"And?"
"Claire..."
She started crying.
"There are copies of your documents inside."
"What documents?"
"Passport. Tax forms. Corporate papers."
I stood.
Then she whispered:
"And there's a second driver's license."
"Whose?"
"Yours."
May you like
My hand tightened around the phone.
Except I had never applied for a second driver's license.
