Chapter 3
Daniel Price arrived at the pavilion with two boxes and the face of a man who had not slept.
He was seventy, sharp-eyed, and the only person alive who knew every clause in my father’s trust.
He looked at the torn suit on the table.
“Thomas.”
“I know.”
“Did they do that?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then today is going to be worse before it gets better.”
“I know that too.”
He opened the first box.
Inside were documents I had hoped never to show Claire.
Custody filings.
Returned letters.
Child support orders Raymond ignored.
A police report from the night he left Marlene and toddler Claire alone in a motel during a winter storm.
A restraining order Marlene filed against him, then later withdrew from shame.
And photographs.
Claire at three, asleep in my lap.
Claire at five, holding the dollhouse I built.
Claire at eight, missing two front teeth, sitting on my shoulders at the Fourth of July parade.
I had been there.
Everywhere.
Always.
Daniel touched the second box.
“This one is harder.”
Inside were the recent bank records.
Marlene’s transfers.
Raymond’s deposits.
Forms for Monday’s mortgage appointment.
And three documents bearing Claire’s signature.
I knew my daughter’s handwriting.
The first was hers.
The second was not.
The third looked close, but wrong in the pressure.
“Forgery,” Daniel said.
“Raymond?”
“Likely. But Marlene had access.”
I sat down.
I could handle them stealing from me.
I could handle being humiliated.
But using Claire’s name to do it?
That was different.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Do you want to cancel the wedding?”
I looked through the window.
Workers were hanging white fabric from the arch.
Guests would arrive in five hours.
Claire would put on the dress I had paid for with overtime and love she no longer wanted to see.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Thomas.”
“I want the truth in front of her before I decide.”
Daniel studied me.
“You still want to save her.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She may not listen.”
“I know.”
He closed the folder.
“Then we make sure she cannot say she never saw it.”
At that moment, Alicia knocked.
Her face was pale.
“Mr. Whitaker, Raymond Hale is here.”
I stood.
May you like
Good.
Let the groomed lie arrive early.
