“Over the last eleven months,” she said, “several transfers were made from the Bennett Family Preservation Account into a consulting company called North Shore Event Holdings. That company is controlled by Claire Bennett.”
Walter stared at his daughter. “You took money from the trust?”
Claire threw up her hands. “I borrowed it. And I was going to put it back.”
“How much?” he asked.
No answer.
“How much?” Robert repeated.
Claire swallowed. “Seventy-two thousand.”
Diane whispered, “Claire…”
Walter sat down heavily as though his knees had given way under him. “That trust pays for your mother’s care if I die first. It covers the lake house taxes. It helps with college for the grandchildren.”
Claire pointed at me like I was somehow still the problem. “This is because of her. Since Elena came into this family, everything changed. Dad likes her judgment, Robert listens to her, and suddenly I’m treated like some reckless child.”
I found my voice then, cold and steady. “You told my daughter her father wasn’t her father.”
Claire looked at me with open resentment. “Because you were always going to win unless something cracked your perfect little image.”
I almost laughed at the word perfect. She had no idea how many nights Robert and I had spent worrying about bills in our first apartment, how many double shifts I worked after Sophie was born, how many arguments we survived simply because we refused to quit on each other. There was nothing polished about our marriage. It was built, plank by plank, under pressure.
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