I laughed.
It came out broken.
“At first?”
Rebecca stood.
“Natalie, I don’t know what became real later.”
“I do.”
Everyone looked at me.
I thought of nine years.
Vacations.
Christmas mornings.
His hand on my back at my mother’s funeral.
The way he used to bring me coffee during installation weeks.
The way he had once sat on the kitchen floor assembling sample binders because I was behind.
Had all of it been fake?
Probably not.
That was worse.
If he had been a monster every day, I could have hated him cleanly.
But people were rarely that convenient.
Eric had likely loved me.
And used me.
Desired me.
And deceived me.
Resented my success.
And depended on it.
Human beings were capable of contradictions ugly enough to live together for years.
Marissa whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
This woman had slept with my husband.
Sat on my sofa.
Smiled when he told me to leave.
And somehow she was no longer the most important betrayal in the room.
“You should be.”
She nodded.
“I am.”
Then she said, “There’s one thing you still don’t know.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
She reached into her bag.
Price immediately stepped closer.
She slowly removed an envelope.
“My mother gave me this five years ago.”
“What is it?”
“She said if anything ever happened involving the Brooks family, I should open it.”
“You waited five years?”
“I thought she was being dramatic.”
She handed it to me.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Marissa Adams.
Mother: Eleanor Vale.
Father:
Samuel Sloan.
Rebecca made a sound behind me.
I turned.
Her face had gone completely white.
Marissa stared at her.
“What?”
Rebecca whispered, “Samuel Sloan was my father.”
Silence.
Marissa shook her head.
“No.”
Rebecca sat down hard.
“My father disappeared for six months before he died.”
Marissa’s eyes filled.
“My mother said my father died before I was born.”
Rebecca looked at the birth certificate.
Then at Marissa.
And suddenly the final cruelty became clear.
Eric had not merely chosen his mistress because she was young and attractive.
He had chosen her because of her name.
Because she was connected to the Vale family.
He had been trying to reach both sides of the buried financial network at once.
Me through Martin Hayes.
Marissa through Arthur Vale.
Rebecca through Samuel Sloan.
Three women.
Three families.
One man convinced he could manipulate all of us.
I looked at Price.
“Did Eric know?”
“We’ll ask him.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
For the first time all day, I smiled.
“Let him wonder what we know.”
Six months later, Brooks Design Studio moved into a new building.
Bigger windows.
Better light.
No memories of Eric in the hallways.
The criminal cases were still moving.
Financial cases moved slowly.
Paper by paper.
Signature by signature.
Eric faced charges related to theft, unauthorized access, destruction of property, and financial crimes.
Aster Lane Holdings never completed a single legitimate transaction.
The eighty-four thousand dollars was recovered.
Rebecca accepted responsibility for what she had done and cooperated fully.
I did not forgive her.
