Chapter 15 - The Last Lie
Daniel looked toward the courthouse doors. “I think it was me.”
Lena stepped back. “What?”
“I didn't order anyone to hurt him. But I told my mother's attorney where Frank was staying. I thought they wanted to offer him money to stay quiet. I didn't know someone would attack him.”
Claire stared at him. “You gave them his address?”
“I thought I could control it.”
“You thought you could control everything.”
“I was trying to stop the company from collapsing.”
“By putting a witness in danger?”
Daniel's face crumpled. “I know what I did.”
“No,” Claire said. “You know what happened. That's not the same as understanding it.”
He nodded slowly. “I'll give Ruiz every email, every call, everything I have.”
“Good.”
“Claire, I still love you.”
She looked at the man she had planned to marry. She remembered his hand at the small of her back, his laugh in the kitchen, the way he had held her when she cried over her mother. Those memories were real. So was the lie.
“I believe you loved me,” she said. “But love doesn't make you safe.”
Daniel didn't argue.
Ruiz took his phone and led him away for questioning. He went without resistance.
The sisters left together. Outside, the rain had stopped. A pale strip of sunlight cut through the clouds.
For the first time, Claire felt no need to explain herself to the cameras.
They drove to the hospital to see Frank. He was awake, and he apologized again. Lena told him she wasn't ready to forgive him. He accepted that.
Before they left, he gave them a final detail.
“Your mother kept a second copy of the design book,” he said. “Not in the studio. She gave it to someone she trusted.”
“Who?” Claire asked.
Frank looked toward the window.
“June.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
Her aunt had been arrested, but the book had not been found.
“Why would June keep it?” Lena asked.
Frank's answer was quiet.
“Because she was the one who paid to have the first copy destroyed. She wanted the only one left.”
May you like
The courthouse smelled of wet coats and old paper. Claire's hands trembled beneath the table, but Lena's shoulder pressed against hers. Their lawyer spoke in careful sentences. The judge listened without expression. Claire realized that justice rarely looked like a dramatic confession. Sometimes it looked like dates, signatures, sworn statements, and a tired man in a hospital bed refusing to let another lie pass.
THE DRESS FULL OF SECRETS |
