Chapter 7: Claire at the Table
She was in the kitchen when I got home.
Not doing anything.
Just sitting at the table with a mug of tea gone cold, her hands wrapped around it like she'd forgotten it was there.
Maya's door was still closed upstairs.
Brooke had left a note on the counter saying she was at a friend's house and would call later.
I sat down across from Claire.
She looked up.
Her eyes were swollen.
She had been crying for a long time, or had been trying not to, which amounted to the same kind of damage.
"Paul needs to see you today," I said.
"I know."
"Did you know he called him last night?
Marsh.
He called Paul before I'd even picked up the phone."
Something moved across her face.
"No.
I didn't know that."
"He also sent me a threat this morning.
From a number I didn't have.
He said if I didn't call off my attorney, he'd accelerate the loan and we'd have thirty days to leave the house."
She set the mug down.
"Claire, I need you to tell me everything.
Not the version that protects him.
Not the version that protects you.
Everything."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "I was embarrassed."
"About what?"
"About how I met him.
About how stupid I was." She looked at the table.
"He approached me at a conference.
He was charming.
He said all the right things about financial security and legacy planning and protecting your family's future.
I was worried about money — not because we were in trouble, but because I was afraid we might be someday.
You were working so hard and I felt like I wasn't contributing and I just—" She stopped.
"I wanted to fix something.
I wanted to bring something to the table."
"So you gave him Maya's college fund."
"Not at first.
At first it was five thousand dollars.
From my personal savings.
And it came back in six weeks.
Eight thousand dollars.
Just like he said."
I understood then.
"He paid you back on the first one."
"To prove it worked."
"That's how it works, Claire.
He pays back the first small amount so you trust him with the larger one.
It's a standard confidence scheme."
She pressed her fingers over her eyes.
"I know that now."
"When did you take the money from Maya's account?"
"Eight months ago.
He said the window was closing.
That the opportunity would be gone.
I panicked." She lowered her hands.
"I thought it would be back before she ever needed it.
Her first tuition payment isn't until September."
"And the loan?"
"He said it was an investment vehicle.
A bridge structure.
He showed me documents that looked — they looked real, Tom.
They had letterhead and account numbers and—" Her voice broke.
"I'm not stupid."
"I know you're not."
"I just wanted to help."
"I know."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"He's not going to give the money back," she said.
"Is he."
"No," I said.
"But Paul thinks we can go after him criminally.
He's done this before.
Ohio and Georgia.
No conviction yet, but the pattern is there."
She looked up.
"He told me those were false accusations.
Jealous clients who didn't understand how high-risk investment worked."
"Of course he did."
Her jaw tightened.
"I believed him."
"Claire." I waited until she was looking at me.
"I need you to go to Paul's office this afternoon and tell him everything you just told me.
The first payment, the return, the escalation, every conversation, every document.
All of it."
"Will it help?"
"It might put him in prison."
She nodded.
Slowly.
Then she looked toward the stairs.
"Maya won't talk to me," she said.
"Give her time."
"What if she doesn't come around?"
"Then you give her more time." I stood up.
"But first you go see Paul.
That's how you start fixing this."
She picked up the cold mug and carried it to the sink.
Stood there with her back to me for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Tom," she said.
"I know that doesn't cover it."
May you like
"It doesn't," I said.
"But it's a start."
