She was defending the version of Ethan she needed to believe in.
I clicked to the next record.
“These weren’t automatic.”
Ethan snapped.
“Stop doing that.”
The room flinched.
His voice had risen enough to strip away the last of his charm.
I did not raise mine.
“Doing what?”
“Putting private family information on a wall like you’re some kind of prosecutor.”
“I asked you a question.”
“You ambushed me.”
“You asked me to bring Grandma’s property to you.”
“For the baby.”
“The bracelet was left to me.”
“It’s jewelry, Claire.”
The cruelty of that sentence was almost elegant.
For a week, everyone had insisted the bracelet mattered enough for me to surrender it.
Now that his own behavior was being examined, it was only jewelry.
I took the bracelet case from my bag.
Mom inhaled sharply.
Ethan stared at it.
I did not open it.
“This is what you wanted today,” I said.
“Not because the baby needs a Cartier bracelet.
Because you wanted proof that if you asked for something Grandma left me, Mom could still make me hand it over.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
I looked at Mom.
She could not meet my eyes.
I continued.
“You forgot my birthday.
Then seven days later, you called to make sure I was bringing this.”
Mom’s face tightened.
“Don’t drag your birthday into this again.”
I almost laughed.
There it was again.
My hurt was childish.
His entitlement was family.
I put the bracelet case back into my bag.
“No.”
This time, the word was not directed only at the bracelet.
Dad moved closer to the wall, studying the records.
“Ethan,” he said, “how much did you take?”
Ethan’s eyes flashed.
“I didn’t take anything.”
“You just said Grandma helped you.”
“She did.”
“And then you said there were expenses.”
“There were.”
“And Claire says some of this happened after she died.”
Ethan looked at me with open hatred now.
“She’s always wanted to make me look bad.”
The old strategy.
Change the subject from what happened to why Claire was supposedly talking about it.
Usually Mom rushed in at that point.
