Chapter 2 - The Man Beside Me
“Ethan?”
My brother stared at me as though I had caught him standing over a body.
He looked exhausted.
His tie hung loose around his neck.
The happy groom I had seen that afternoon was gone.
In his hand was the original trust document.
My forged signature sat above his very real one.
Alex positioned himself beside me.
Not in front.
He knew me well enough not to do that.
“Tell me you didn’t know,” I said.
Ethan swallowed.
Mom stepped between us.
“This is not the time.”
I looked at her.
“Move.”
“Claire.”
“Move.”
My own voice startled me.
Mom stepped aside.
Ethan looked at the floor.
That hurt more than anything.
“Did you know?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I knew there was paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“The trust.”
“Did you know my signature was forged?”
“No.”
He answered quickly.
Too quickly?
I studied him.
Ethan and I had been close once.
Before adulthood.
Before our mother learned how effectively she could turn love into competition.
When Ethan got an A, she asked why I had gotten an A-minus.
When I made varsity, she asked why Ethan had not.
When he got engaged, she spent three weeks reminding me that my younger brother had “beaten me to the altar.”
The irony nearly made me dizzy.
Alex took the document from Ethan.
“Where did you get this?”
Ethan looked at him properly for the first time.
Recognition followed.
Then disbelief.
“You’re…”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s my husband.”
Ethan’s mouth fell open.
Under other circumstances, it might have been funny.
“Your what?”
“Later.”
He looked at Alex.
Alex gave him nothing.
Ethan returned his attention to me.
“I found that in Mom’s study.”
“Why were you looking?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because something has been wrong for weeks.”
Mom’s face sharpened.
“Ethan.”
“No.”
He turned toward her.
“You told me Claire agreed.”
“I told you what was necessary.”
“For what?”
Nobody moved.
Ethan looked at me.
“The trust was supposed to be divided equally.”
“I know.”
Our father had created it twelve years earlier.
He had died of a heart attack when I was twenty.
Mom had always described the trust as modest.
Enough to help Ethan and me buy homes.
Nothing life-changing.
I had never asked questions.
Money had always been one of Mom’s favorite weapons.
“So what changed?” I asked.
Ethan exhaled.
“Granddad’s land.”
“What land?”
Mom closed her eyes.
Ethan continued.
“Dad inherited property outside Naperville. Almost two hundred acres.”
“I’ve never heard about it.”
“Neither had I.”
Alex was reading.
“What’s on it?”
Ethan looked at him.
“A proposed data center development.”
Alex’s eyes sharpened.
“How much?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Thirty-eight million.”
The kitchen went silent.
I actually laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
“Thirty-eight million dollars?”
“Potentially.”
“And Mom forged my signature to remove me?”
“It’s more complicated.”
I turned toward her.
“No. I think that part is incredibly simple.”
She crossed her arms.
“You don’t need the money.”
There it was.
Not denial.
Justification.
“You didn’t know I was married to Alex when you did this.”
“I knew you were doing well.”
“So theft is acceptable if the victim can afford it?”
“Don’t use that word.”
“What word?”
“Theft.”
Alex spoke quietly.
“It’s an accurate word.”
Mom turned on him.
“This is family business.”
His expression did not change.
“My wife is my family.”
Marlene, who had been unnaturally silent, picked up her purse.
“I should go.”
“No,” I said.
She froze.
“You were here when my clothes were destroyed.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“You laughed.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“Claire—”
“Stay.”
For once, she did what I asked.
Ethan dragged a chair away from the island and sat.
“I didn’t sign to remove you.”
I pointed to his name.
“Then what did you sign?”
“A consent acknowledgment. Mom said the trust attorney needed both beneficiaries to approve a temporary restructuring before the wedding.”
“The wedding?”
“She said there were tax reasons.”
Alex looked at him.
“Did you read it?”
Ethan looked ashamed.
“No.”
I wanted to be furious.
Instead, I felt tired.
Mom had trained both of us differently.
She trained me to doubt myself.
She trained Ethan to trust her.
The result had been equally useful.
“When did you find out?” I asked.
“Tonight.”
“How?”
“Madeline’s father mentioned the land.”
Mom glared at him.
“He had no right.”
Ethan stood.
“He asked whether the closing had happened.”
I frowned.
“What closing?”
Alex turned another page.
Then another.
His expression darkened.
“Diane.”
My mother stiffened.
He held up the document.
“You already executed a purchase option.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“She agreed to sell the property if the developer exercises the option.”
“Without me?”
“With your supposed consent.”
My stomach turned.
“How much did she get?”
Alex scanned the page.
“Option payment: four hundred thousand.”
Ethan looked at Mom.
“You told me it was fifty.”
“I told you what you needed to know.”
“You keep saying that!”
His shout echoed through the kitchen.
The wedding was in less than twelve hours.
Guests were sleeping in hotels.
Flowers were waiting in refrigerated vans.
Madeline was probably upstairs wondering why her fiancé had disappeared.
And our family had just detonated.
My phone buzzed.
I ignored it.
Mom took a breath.
Then she did what she always did when cornered.
She attacked.
“Fine. You want the truth?”
She pointed at me.
“You left.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You went to college. Then you moved downtown. You built your little life and visited when it was convenient.”
“I visited every week.”
“For dinner.”
“Yes.”
“You never helped.”
“With what?”
“This family!”
She gestured around the house.
I almost could not believe it.
“You mean the family where you cut my clothes apart tonight?”
Her expression flickered.
“You have always been selfish.”
Alex’s hand tightened once around mine.
I squeezed back.
I did not need him to fight this battle.
Not yet.
“What did you use the four hundred thousand dollars for?” I asked.
Mom stopped.
Ethan slowly looked at her.
Marlene looked at the floor.
That was enough.
I turned.
“Aunt Marlene?”
She did not answer.
“Marlene.”
Her face crumpled.
“I told her not to.”
“Not to what?”
Mom snapped, “Keep your mouth shut.”
And suddenly I knew.
The money was gone.
Maybe most of it.
Maybe all.
“What happened to it?”
Marlene whispered, “The wedding.”
Ethan went completely still.
“What?”
Mom glared at her sister.
Marlene wiped at her mouth.
“She spent it.”
“On my wedding?” Ethan asked.
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
Mom said nothing.
Ethan stepped toward her.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and sixty.”
His face drained.
“Thousand?”
“You wanted the best.”
“I wanted a wedding, Mom. Not a small country.”
“You said Madeline deserved—”
“Madeline thinks her parents and I are paying for it!”
“I wanted people to remember it.”
There it was again.
Appearances.
Always appearances.
The venue.
Imported flowers.
Custom lighting.
A fourteen-piece band.
Champagne that cost more per bottle than some families spent on groceries in a week.
I had wondered why Ethan suddenly stopped complaining about costs.
Now I knew.
He had not stopped paying attention.
Someone else had started paying.
With money that partly belonged to me.
Alex remained quiet.
But his eyes moved from face to face.
Calculating.
My phone buzzed again.
This time I checked.
ALEX’S ATTORNEY: Call me immediately. I ran the trust entity.
I showed Alex.
He took out his phone.
“Excuse us.”
Mom’s voice sharpened.
“You are not calling lawyers tonight.”
Alex looked at her.
“I am.”
“This family is about to have a wedding.”
“That doesn’t suspend the law.”
He called.
I stood beside him.
His attorney, Rebecca Sloan, answered immediately.
“Alex?”
“Claire’s here.”
“Good. Put me on speaker.”
He did.
Rebecca spoke quickly.
“I searched the trust amendments. There are three.”
My stomach tightened.
“Three?”
“Yes. The beneficiary waiver you have is only the latest.”
“What are the others?”
“The first transfers administrative control to Diane Hart.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It would be, except the second authorizes borrowing against trust assets.”
Ethan whispered a curse.
“How much?” Alex asked.
“Up to twelve million.”
Mom grabbed the edge of the counter.
I saw it.
So did Alex.
Rebecca continued.
“And there’s already a loan.”
“How much?”
“Seven point eight.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan whispered, “Jesus.”
I looked at my mother.
“Where is seven point eight million dollars?”
She stared at me.
For the first time in my life, Diane Hart looked genuinely afraid.
Rebecca spoke again.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The lender is not a bank.”
Alex’s posture changed.
“Who?”
“A private company called Ashford Capital Partners.”
I knew the name.
But I did not know why.
Alex did.
He went very still.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?” I asked.
He ended the speakerphone.
Then looked at my mother.
“Tell me you didn’t borrow money from Victor Ashford.”
Her silence answered.
My skin prickled.
“Who is Victor Ashford?”
Alex looked at me.
“A man who has been trying to destroy my company for three years.”
I stared at him.
Then at my mother.
She whispered, “I didn’t know.”
Alex’s phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
Alex opened it.
It had been taken from outside the kitchen window.
Seconds ago.
All of us were visible.
Me.
Alex.
Ethan.
Mom.
Marlene.
Beneath the photo were six words.
May you like
WELCOME TO THE FAMILY, MRS. VALE.
Then the back door handle began to turn.
