Chapter 4 - What He Never Told Her
The room fell so quiet I could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking. Brooke shifted her weight, her confidence fraying but still clinging. “You can’t cut him off. He’s your son.”
“I can cut off anyone who steals from the business and betrays their vows under my roof,” Thomas answered. “And Andrew… you need to hear this clearly. You’ve been living a life you didn’t earn. And everything you’ve told this woman about your marriage? Every lie about Claire? It ends now.”
He turned to Brooke. “Let me tell you what he left out. He didn’t tell you that Claire stayed up with him until three a.m. helping him prepare for his first big presentation—while he was sleeping on the couch because he was too nervous to be alone. He didn’t tell you that she negotiated a better contract with our biggest supplier when he was too sick to travel, and saved us nearly two hundred thousand dollars in a single afternoon. He didn’t tell you that she planned every company holiday party, every executive dinner, every charity auction—events that built trust and brought in business—while he was taking credit for the results.”
I stared at Andrew. I’d never told anyone about the supplier contract. I’d never asked for credit. I’d just thought I was helping my husband.
“You did all that?” Brooke asked, her eyes wide, looking between us.
Andrew shrugged uncomfortably. “It was just… small stuff—”
“Small stuff paid your salary,” Thomas cut in. “Small stuff kept our reputation solid. And you called it worthless.”
Brooke took a step back from him. “You told me she was lazy. That she didn’t do anything but spend money.”
“I was trying to make you understand—” Andrew started.
“Understand what?” Her voice rose. “That you’re a liar? That you’d badmouth your own wife to make yourself look better? That you spent money you didn’t even have on me?” She looked at me, her expression shifting from malice to something close to shame. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you really were just… nothing.”
“I know what you thought,” I said, my voice steady at last. “Because he told you exactly what he wanted you to believe. He told me I was needed here. He told you I was useless. And all along, he was the one taking and taking and giving nothing back.”
Andrew reached for Brooke’s arm. “Brooke, wait—we can figure this out—”
She pulled away from him, smoothing her dress. “Figure what out? You lied about everything. About the money, about your marriage, about who you are.” She glanced at me, briefly. “I’m sorry, Claire. Truly. I didn’t know.”
Then she turned and walked out—the crimson dress disappearing down the hallway, the front door clicking shut behind her.
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Andrew stood alone at the end of the table, his face burning red, looking smaller and more pathetic than I’d ever seen him. He turned to me, hands outstretched. “Claire… she didn’t mean it. I can fix this. We can—”
“Sit down, Andrew,” Thomas said. “We’re not finished.”
