Chapter 7: The Conversation Claire Didn't Expect
Claire was in the sitting room off the main hall.
She had changed out of the silk robe into dark slacks and a cream blouse.
Her hair was pulled back.
She was seated on the sofa with a second cup of coffee, and she looked up when Dominic entered with the expression of a woman who had decided, somewhere between the cellar and now, that the best position available to her was calm.
"I want to explain," she said.
"I know you do." He sat in the chair across from her.
"Tell me about the notebook."
She blinked.
"Nathan told you."
"Tell me yourself."
She set the coffee down.
"I found it three weeks ago.
I wasn't snooping — I was looking for the household schedule because we had the Hargrove dinner coming and I wanted to confirm the guest list.
The notebook was on the shelf in the pantry." She folded her hands in her lap.
"In the back, there were pages of your financial records.
Dates, amounts, account references.
Written out in her handwriting."
"Did you ask her about it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I already knew what it was." Her voice was even.
"I've watched that woman for three years, Dominic.
The way she moves through this house.
The way she knows your schedule better than your assistant does.
The way she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching." She paused.
"I went to Nathan because I wanted someone I trusted to tell me I was wrong."
"And he told you that you were right."
"He told me she had been gathering information for months.
That it was serious.
That we needed to handle it before you got back so that you wouldn't walk into something dangerous." Her jaw tightened slightly.
"He said one day.
Two at the most.
He said it was the safest way."
"And you believed him."
"He's been your closest adviser for seventeen years.
Why wouldn't I believe him?"
Dominic looked at her for a moment.
"Because you're not a stupid woman, Claire."
She looked away.
"The notebook was household records," he said.
"The financial entries were from a property fund I set up two years ago.
Mia managed the household accounts.
She had every reason to have those numbers."
The color in Claire's face shifted.
"Nathan knew that," Dominic continued.
"He knew exactly what those entries were.
He told you they were dangerous because he needed Mia out of the way.
She had something on him.
Something that would have reached me if she'd had more time."
Claire's hands separated in her lap.
"What did she have?"
"Photographs.
Of Nathan meeting with a man who is not our friend."
She stared at him.
"Nathan has been working against me for at least eighteen months," Dominic said.
"He arranged the Atlantic City trip to keep me away from the estate.
He used your fear about Mia to get her locked in that cellar so she couldn't reach me.
He was going to let you take the blame for it once I got home." He paused.
"He was going to let you explain it to me as jealousy.
As you being overprotective.
And Mia would have been dismissed, and the photographs would have disappeared, and Nathan would have walked away clean."
Claire said nothing for a long time.
Outside, a bird called once from the garden.
The morning light had shifted to something thin and white.
"I did that to her," Claire said finally.
"I put her in that room."
"Yes."
"I thought I was protecting you."
"I know."
"That doesn't—" She stopped.
Pressed her fingers against her mouth.
"That doesn't make it right."
"No.
It doesn't."
She stood.
Walked to the window.
Stood with her back to him.
"What happens now?" she said.
"Nathan is writing a full account of his arrangement with Foss.
Every transfer, every meeting, every name.
When he's done, I'll decide what to do with it."
"And me?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
"The wedding," she said.
Her voice had changed.
Quieter.
"I assume—"
"Claire."
She turned.
"I need you to go upstairs," he said.
"I need you to go to the guest room.
I need you to knock on that door, and when Mia opens it, I need you to look at her and say whatever is true."
Claire's face cracked.
Just at the edges.
"She won't want to see me."
"Probably not."
"Dominic, I can't—"
"You can," he said.
"You're the only person in this house who can do that specific thing.
Nathan can't.
I can't.
Only you." He stood.
"Whatever you say to her, make sure it's true.
She'll know if it isn't."
He walked past her toward the hall.
"The wedding," she said again, behind him.
He stopped but didn't turn around.
May you like
"I don't know yet," he said.
He walked out.
