A burst of laughter erupted from inside. Someone called out my name.
“Claire! They’re about to cut the cake!”
I didn’t move.
“What did Mom discover?” I asked again.
Robert rubbed his face, like he was trying to pull himself awake.
“She discovered that Dad had been deceiving her for years—not about small things, but about who he truly was.”
“That’s deliberately vague,” I snapped. “Stop doing that.”
He met my eyes. “Do you remember how Laura suddenly moved closer when Mom got sick?”
“Yes. She said she wanted to help.”
“And how Dad always insisted she stay? How she was constantly around whenever Mom wasn’t well?”
“Grief makes people hold on,” I said, though my voice lacked certainty.
“Or conceal things.”
I shook my head. “No. If you’re suggesting what I think you are—”
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