Chapter 6 - Moving Day
At precisely 8:45 on Thursday morning, a heavy commercial moving truck pulled up to the curb of the suburban build. Claire stood on the front lawn, clipboard in hand, flanked by Megan and two burly men wearing matching work shirts.
“Everything on this inventory list,” Claire told the lead mover, handing him the duplicate manifest. “Every item of children's furniture, the master bedroom suite that was purchased using my personal pre-marital savings, the washer and dryer I paid for from my separate account, and all kitchen appliances that aren't bolted down.”
“What about the guy’s clothes?” the mover asked, gesturing toward the master closet.
“Leave every stitch of his suits, his golf clubs, and his precious craft beer,” Claire said coolly. “He can sleep on the subfloor with his clothes for pillows.”
For four hours, the moving crew worked with ruthless efficiency. Box by box, the six years Claire had poured into Daniel’s domestic illusion were dismantled. The children’s dinosaur comforters, Emma’s crib, the high-end nursery gliders, the framed family photographs—everything was loaded into the belly of the truck.
Claire walked into Daniel’s home office. On his mahogany desk sat the framed picture of Daniel, Claire, and the two kids taken at a coastal resort two summers ago. Claire popped the frame open, slid the photograph out, and replaced it with a crisp, eight-by-ten glossy print Marcus had taken the day before: Daniel kissing Julianne Vance outside her Dublin garage.
She set the frame back in the center of the clean desk blotter.
Next to the frame, she laid a single manila envelope. Inside was a certified letter from the Franklin County Recorder’s Office, confirming that the downtown Columbus condominium remained unencumbered, titled solely to Claire Bennett, and had been formally placed into an irrevocable spendthrift trust naming Noah and Emma as the sole primary beneficiaries.
Even if Daniel managed to sue her into the next century, he could never touch a square foot of Ruth’s building.
By two in the afternoon, the suburban house was an echo chamber. Dust motes floated through the empty living room where modern sectional sofas had once stood. The kitchen cabinets were bare down to the shelf paper. Without the furniture and the warmth of family life, the house looked exactly like what it had always been: an oversized, pretentious, unfinished concrete shell built on deceit.
Claire locked the front door, walked down the driveway, and climbed into her SUV.
Her phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth. It was Daniel’s mother, Brenda.
Claire took a deep, steady breath and tapped the answer button.
“Hello, Brenda.”
“Claire, dear!” Brenda’s voice was syrupy, dripping with that particular brand of condescending southern-Ohio sweetness Claire had endured for years. “Daniel told me about your terrible misfortune at the pharmacy. Oh, my heart just broke for you! But you know, every cloud has a silver lining. A mother belongs in the home with her babies. You’ve been running yourself ragged with those unnatural shift hours.”
“Is that what Daniel told you?” Claire asked mildly.
“Well, yes! And he mentioned you might finally be parting with that dreadful downtown relic. Honestly, Claire, it’s about time. Daniel has carried the heavy load of this family’s prestige for years. It’s only right that you contribute your little inheritance so he can finish the dream home he’s building for you.”
Claire gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. “Brenda, do you know what Grandma Ruth told me before she died?”
“Some quaint old restaurant nonsense, I’m sure,” Brenda chuckled dismissively.
May you like
“She told me that a snake will always tell you he’s giving you a hug while he wraps himself around your neck,” Claire said evenly. “Have a wonderful evening, Brenda. You might want to drive out to Daniel’s house tonight. He’s going to need someone to cook him dinner. And he doesn't have a stove to cook it on.”
Claire ended the call and blocked the number before Brenda could screech a reply.
