not erase what you chose, but it may explain the cage you mistook for a crown.
Clara made a small sound.
Dominic’s face hardened. ‘This is slander.’
Martin lifted a finger. ‘Do not interrupt the dead.’
Mae read on.
Years ago, Dominic forced Julian out of the Hale trust using forged correspondence and a private settlement built on a false confession. I obtained copies from a former Hale accountant who came to me after your mother died. The same accountant provided records showing payments made to silence staff after the night Dominic and Clara were discovered.
Mae looked up.
Clara’s eyes were wide.
‘Payments?’ she said.
Dominic rounded on her. ‘Do not be naive. Wealthy families pay people to protect privacy.’
‘Privacy from what?’ Clara asked.
He did not answer.
Martin slid the second page across the desk. ‘This is a copy of the transfer Dominic persuaded Julian to sign twelve years ago. It was notarized by a man later convicted of document fraud. The original has already been submitted with supporting materials to the appropriate court.’
Dominic’s control cracked.
‘You had no right.’
Julian’s voice stayed quiet. ‘You took my mother’s house. You took my inheritance. You told everyone I abandoned her while she was dying.’
‘I saved the company from you,’ Dominic snapped.
‘You sold her house three weeks after the funeral.’
Silence struck the room.
Even Clara looked sick.
Mae remembered Julian telling her about his mother in fragments: a garden, a yellow kitchen, a woman who sang off-key while cooking. He had never told her the house had been taken.
Dominic saw the shift and changed tactics.
He turned to Clara, softening his face. ‘Darling, this is bitterness. Julian has always resented me. Mae married him for revenge. Can you not see that?’
Clara looked at Mae.
For a moment, seven years collapsed. Mae saw the girl who used to crawl into her bed during thunderstorms. The sister who stole sweaters, borrowed mascara, cried when their childhood dog died. Then Clara’s gaze dropped to the sapphire necklace, and shame moved across her face like a shadow.
‘You told me Mae had already ended things,’ Clara whispered.
Mae went still.
Dominic’s eyes flashed.
Clara continued, each word smaller than the last. ‘You told me she was seeing someone else. You said the proposal was a mistake. You said she only wanted the wedding because of the attention.’
Mae felt the old wound open, but this time something new came with it.
Not forgiveness.
Understanding, perhaps. A bitter and incomplete kind.
‘You believed him,’ Mae said.
Clara flinched.
‘I wanted to,’ she admitted.
There it was. Not innocence. Not absolution. A confession more honest than any apology Clara had ever offered.
Dominic laughed under his breath. ‘This is pathetic.’
Julian stepped forward. ‘No. This is over.’
Dominic’s gaze cut to him. ‘You think a dead man’s letter and a few old copies will destroy me? I have lawyers.’
‘So do I,’ Julian said. ‘Now.’
Martin closed the folder. ‘And Robert left additional instructions.’
Clara looked exhausted suddenly. ‘What instructions?’
Martin turned to Mae. ‘Your father left the house to you and Clara jointly, but with a condition. Neither of you may sell, transfer, or mortgage it for two years. During that period, the second-floor apartment is reserved for
