“My mother chose the rugs in this house. She restored the garden. She stood beside him when he owned one bankrupt hotel and two hundred thousand dollars in debt. You arrived after all the hard work was finished.”
I understood then.
This was not only about money.
To Vivian, my presence was an insult to her mother’s memory.
But understanding cruelty did not make it hurt less.
“You’ll leave here with nothing,” she whispered. “My father may enjoy pretending to save you, but he would never give you what belongs to us.”
A voice came from behind her.
“Claire will receive exactly what she deserves.”
Harrison stood in the doorway, his bow tie hanging loose around his collar.
Vivian turned.
“Good,” she said.
She believed he had agreed with her.
I was not certain he had not.
Later that night, lying beside him in a bedroom larger than my old apartment, I asked what he meant.
