Chapter 9 - THE MONEY

Our savings account was almost empty.

Forty-eight thousand dollars.

Gone.

At first I thought I had logged into the wrong account.

I refreshed.

Same number.

$1,306.42.

I called the bank.

Transfers.

Small at first.

Then larger.

Spread over eleven months.

Sent to an account I didn’t recognize.

My name wasn’t on it.

Claire’s was.

“What was she doing?” Megan asked.

I stared at the screen.

“Preparing.”

“For a divorce?”

“Maybe.”

My lawyer found more.

A storage unit across town.

A post office box.

A prepaid phone.

Claire had been building an exit.

But there was something strange about it.

If she wanted to leave, why build a case against me?

Why train the kids?

Why document fake evidence?

Why move money?

The answer came from someone I never expected.

Claire’s sister.

Rebecca called me at midnight.

We hadn’t spoken in two years.

“Daniel?”

“What do you want?”

“I heard about the order.”

“From Claire?”

“Yes.”

“Then you probably heard I’m a monster.”

Silence.

“No.”

That got my attention.

“What did she tell you?”

“That you kidnapped the kids. That you hit her. That Lily lies.”

“And you don’t believe her?”

Rebecca breathed out slowly.

“When Claire was seventeen, our mom tried to leave our dad.”

I said nothing.

“She hid money. Documented arguments. Took pictures of bruises.”

My skin prickled.

“Was your father abusive?”

“Yes.”

“So Claire learned this from your mom?”

“No.”

Rebecca’s voice cracked.

“Claire learned how to fake it from watching our mom prove the truth.”

The room went still.

“What are you saying?”

“She saw what evidence looked like. What people believed. What made judges listen.”

I sat down.

Rebecca continued.

“When Claire gets scared she’s losing control, she doesn’t just fight. She builds a version of reality where she can’t lose.”

“Scared of losing what?”

“Anything.”

I thought of the children.

The rules.

The recordings.

The bruises.

“Did she hurt people when she was younger?”

A long silence.

“Rebecca?”

“Our cousin stayed with us one summer.”

“How old?”

“Nine.”

“What happened?”

“She started wetting the bed. Stopped eating.”

My stomach tightened.

“Claire?”

“Nobody proved anything.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Rebecca started crying.

“She used to lock her in the shed.”

I closed my eyes.

“Did your parents know?”

“My mom found out.”

“What did she do?”

“Sent our cousin home.”

“That’s it?”

“She said Claire needed help.”

“Did Claire get help?”

“No.”

Of course not.

Rebecca sniffed.

“Daniel, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Claire called me yesterday.”

My grip tightened on the phone.

“What did she say?”

“She asked if she could stay at our parents’ old cabin.”

“Where is that?”

“About ninety miles north.”

“Is she there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because she also asked me something strange.”

“What?”

“She asked if the old bedroom door still locks from the outside.”

I stood so fast the chair fell over.

“Why would she ask that?”

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Rebecca started crying again.

“I think she’s planning to take one of the kids.”