Chapter 7 - The Photograph Taken While Nathan Was Dating ClaireThe photograph had a date.
April 18.
Claire met Nathan on March 7.
Their second date was March 12.
Their first kiss was March 21.
On April 18, Nathan had texted Claire:
Long day at work. Going to crash early.
At 8:41 p.m., Claire had replied:
Sleep well. I like you, Mr. Carter. Don’t disappear on me.
Nathan responded:
Not going anywhere.
The same night, he sat across from Diane in a restaurant.
A candle between them.
His hand resting over hers.
Claire stared at the picture.
“You were still together.”
Diane shook her head.
“No.”
“Stop.”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
Claire laughed.
“I know exactly what I think.”
“That photograph was goodbye.”
“Did you kiss him goodbye?”
Diane said nothing.
“Did you sleep with him goodbye?”
Silence.
Claire dropped the photograph onto the bed.
“How could you?”
Diane began crying again.
“I was confused.”
“You were fifty.”
“Fifty-one.”
“Thank you for correcting the important part.”
“Claire.”
“You were not a teenager.”
“No.”
“You knew he was dating your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And you saw him anyway.”
Diane looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Claire’s voice broke.
“Why?”
Diane stared at the carpet.
“Because I wasn’t ready to lose him.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Not ready to lose him.
To her own daughter.
Something about that sentence reached farther back than Nathan.
Claire remembered childhood.
Diane competing with her over clothes.
Complaining that Thomas always took Claire’s side.
Making comments when Claire received compliments.
Claire had dismissed it as insecurity.
Maybe it had always been rivalry.
“You were jealous of me.”
Diane looked horrified.
“No.”
“You were.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
Diane shook her head.
“I loved you.”
“I didn’t ask if you loved me.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Were you jealous when Nathan chose me?”
Her mother’s face collapsed.
The answer arrived before the words.
“Sometimes.”
Claire closed her eyes.
For a moment she couldn’t feel anything.
Then laughter escaped.
Not because anything was funny.
Because crying felt too small.
“My mother was jealous that her boyfriend fell in love with me.”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“You just said you weren’t ready to lose him.”
“It was complicated.”
“Stop using that word.”
Claire picked up the older photograph.
“How did you meet him?”
Diane explained.
Nathan had been subcontracting on a condominium renovation.
Diane had invested in the unit through Mercer Advisory.
Thomas had died six months earlier.
Diane was grieving.
Nathan was twenty-seven.
Charming.
Ambitious.
He began staying after meetings.
They drank wine.
Talked.
Then one night they slept together.
“How many times?”
Diane’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
Apparently nobody counted betrayal.
“Did Nathan know I was your daughter when he came to the auction?”
“He knew my daughter was named Claire.”
“But had he seen me?”
“I showed him photographs.”
Claire felt cold.
“So he knew exactly who I was.”
Diane hesitated.
“Yes.”
The charity auction had not been an accident.
Nathan had walked into the room knowing her face.
Knowing her mother.
Knowing her father was dead.
Knowing Diane managed family assets.
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
“Why would he do that?”
Diane answered too quickly.
“Because he was curious.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“Or about Dad’s money?”
Diane’s eyes shifted.
There.
“What did you tell him about the trust?”
“Nothing important.”
“How much?”
“Claire—”
“How much did Nathan know before he met me?”
Diane exhaled.
“He knew Thomas had left you property.”
“And money?”
“He knew there was a trust.”
Claire stood.
“So my future husband knew I had an inheritance before he ever said hello.”
“That doesn’t mean he married you for it.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No.”
“You slept with him yesterday.”
Diane flinched.
Claire continued.
“Did he ask how much?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Before he met me?”
Diane nodded.
Claire felt sick.
“How much did you tell him?”
“Not the exact amount.”
“Enough to make him interested?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire looked at her mother.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You just don’t want to say it.”
Diane wiped her face.
“He wasn’t successful then.”
Claire waited.
“He had debt.”
“What kind?”
“Business debt.”
“How much?”
“Maybe seventy thousand.”
“And you helped him?”
“Yes.”
“Through Mercer Advisory?”
Diane nodded.
“That company was created partly for his project.”
Claire looked at the photograph again.
Her mother had financed Nathan before Claire met him.
Later Nathan married Claire.
Years afterward Diane financed him again using Claire’s trust.
The pattern was horrifying.
“Why did your first relationship end?”
Diane hesitated.
“He wanted children someday.”
“And you couldn’t give him that?”
“I didn’t want more children.”
Claire understood.
Then Nathan met a younger version of Diane.
Her daughter.
Same dark hair.
Same family.
But thirty years younger.
Claire felt nauseated.
“Did he ever compare us?”
Diane closed her eyes.
Claire wished she hadn’t asked.
“He said we had the same laugh.”
Claire turned away.
That was enough.
Her phone rang.
Peter Walsh.
Claire answered.
“I found the audit record,” he said.
“Tell me.”
“The approval for the cabin sale came from your home IP address.”
Claire’s heart sank.
Nathan.
“The device?”
“A laptop registered to Hollow Ridge Construction.”
Nathan’s work computer.
Claire looked at Diane.
Her mother saw the answer.
“He forged it,” Claire whispered.
Peter continued.
“That appears likely.”
“Did Mom know?”
“I can’t establish that.”
Claire stared at Diane.
“Did you know Nathan signed my name?”
Diane’s face changed.
“I thought you approved it.”
Claire almost believed her.
Almost.
Then Peter continued.
“There’s another document.”
“What?”
“A trustee certification Diane signed.”
Claire looked at her mother.
“It states she personally confirmed your consent.”
Diane went pale.
Claire lowered the phone.
“You signed a statement saying you watched me approve the sale.”
“Claire—”
“You knew.”
Diane began shaking.
“Nathan said you agreed.”
“And instead of asking me?”
“You two were married.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I trusted him.”
Claire stared.
“You trusted my husband over your daughter.”
Diane’s face broke.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Claire walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what else you gave him.”
Diane followed.
“Claire, there’s something about Nathan you need to understand.”
Claire stopped.
“What now?”
Her mother’s voice lowered.
“The condo.”
“What about it?”
“He told me it was for us.”
Claire stared.
“For who?”
Diane looked ashamed.
“Him and me.”
Claire’s stomach twisted.
“But last month I found out something.”
“What?”
Diane swallowed.
“My name isn’t actually on the deed.”
Claire frowned.
“It’s registered to HRC Development.”
“Yes.”
“You’re listed as manager.”
“Only on the company filing.”
“So?”
Diane looked suddenly frightened.
“Nathan owns one hundred percent of the membership interest.”
Claire understood.
Nathan had convinced Diane they were building a future together.
But legally, the condo belonged entirely to his company.
He had used Claire’s trust money.
Diane’s cooperation.
And Diane’s affair.
To build something neither woman truly controlled.
Claire looked at her mother.
For the first time, she saw something unexpected.
Not innocence.
Diane was nowhere near innocent.
But she might also have been manipulated.
May you like
Nathan had not chosen between mother and daughter.
He had been using both.
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