Chapter 6 - The Statement They Wanted My Sister to Sign
We drove to the hotel without stopping.
David called Clare twice.
She answered the first call.
She didn't answer the second.
By the time we reached the entrance, my jaw hurt from clenching it.
A bellman opened the door.
I barely noticed.
Elaine walked beside me.
"Let me speak first," she said.
"Agreed."
"Whatever happens, we don't threaten anyone."
"Agreed."
"And we don't discuss the records in the lobby."
I glanced at her.
"Elaine."
"Yes?"
"I've handled difficult conversations before."
She looked straight ahead.
"So have I."
Fair enough.
Clare was sitting in a small private lounge near the elevators.
Two men in dark suits stood across from her.
Margaret occupied an armchair beside the fireplace.
The moment she saw me, she stood.
"There she is."
Her tone suggested she'd been waiting for an escaped prisoner.
I ignored her and went straight to Clare.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
Then shook her head.
Then nodded again.
I sat beside her.
"Look at me."
Her eyes met mine.
"Did you sign anything?"
"No."
"Good."
Margaret made an exasperated sound.
"For heaven's sake, Evelyn, nobody is forcing anyone."
Elaine stepped forward.
"Then we should have no difficulty ending this conversation."
One of the lawyers turned toward her.
"Mrs. Mercer?"
"Ms. Mercer."
He adjusted his glasses.
"Thomas Ellery."
"Who is your client?"
"Gerald Ulette."
"Then I suggest you speak to Gerald Ulette."
The lawyer looked uncomfortable.
"Our client is concerned about potentially defamatory statements made at last night's event."
Elaine nodded.
"Which statements?"
"Allegations regarding his family conduct and financial matters."
"Be specific."
The second lawyer opened a folder.
Margaret interrupted.
"Clare embarrassed her father in front of everyone he knows."
Clare raised her head.
"I told the truth."
"You humiliated him."
"He humiliated Evelyn first."
Margaret waved dismissively.
"Your father made one unfortunate comment."
"Fifteen years of comments," Clare said.
"Fifteen years of pretending my sister didn't exist."
Margaret folded her arms.
"You have no appreciation for what your father has done for you."
Clare's face changed.
That sentence.
I knew it.
The family anthem.
Everything Gerald paid for became proof that his children owed him obedience.
Clare took a breath.
"Actually, Margaret, I've spent most of my life appreciating it."
She looked toward the lawyer.
"That's why I never realized how much it cost."
I reached for her hand.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
"Our client would prefer to resolve this privately."
Elaine extended her hand.
"Then give me the document."
He hesitated.
"Are you representing Miss Ulette?"
"Clare is an adult who can decide whom to consult."
Clare spoke.
"I'd like Elaine to review it."
The lawyer passed the pages across.
Elaine read silently.
Once.
Then again.
Her eyebrows rose.
"Interesting."
I recognized that word.
It meant something was worse than it first appeared.
"What?" I asked.
Elaine turned toward Clare.
"This isn't simply a statement about last night."
The room grew quiet.
"It's a broad release."
"Meaning?" Clare asked.
"Meaning that if you signed it, you would be making representations about events you may not know firsthand, while also waiving certain claims involving family financial arrangements."
Margaret looked irritated.
"It's a simple document."
Elaine raised the paper.
"Then why does it refer to the Eleanor Ulette Family Trust?"
The silence was immediate.
Thomas Ellery looked toward his colleague.
His colleague looked at Margaret.
Margaret looked away.
Clare sat forward.
"What does Mom's trust have to do with my wedding speech?"
Nobody answered.
Elaine placed the pages on the table.
"Nothing, as far as I can see."
She looked at Ellery.
"Which makes its inclusion particularly concerning."
Ellery cleared his throat.
"That provision was intended to resolve potential misunderstandings."
"Misunderstandings about what?"
"I'd need to consult my client."
"Then I suggest you do that."
Margaret stepped forward.
"This is getting out of hand."
I looked at her.
"Yes."
For one hopeful second, she thought I was agreeing.
Then I continued.
"It was out of hand when my father sent attorneys to my sister's hotel room the morning after her wedding."
Her expression tightened.
"You have no right to judge this family."
I stood.
"I am part of this family."
"Not according to Gerald."
I looked at her.
"Then Gerald has a paperwork problem."
Clare made a small choking sound.
David covered a smile.
Even Elaine's expression softened.
But Margaret wasn't amused.
"You think that uniform makes you better than everyone?"
"I'm not wearing a uniform."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes."
I stepped closer.
"And you're mistaken."
She opened her mouth.
I didn't give her time to interrupt.
"My service doesn't give me special authority over my family."
"It doesn't make my opinions more valuable."
"And it doesn't put me above the law."
I paused.
"But it also doesn't make me somebody you can frighten into signing away rights she hasn't had explained to her."
Margaret's cheeks reddened.
"This isn't about you."
"Then stop using me to pressure Clare."
The lawyer stood.
"I think we should conclude for now."
Elaine nodded.
"That would be wise."
They collected their belongings.
Before leaving, Ellery looked at Clare.
"Our client has also requested that you be informed of certain changes to his financial support."
Clare stared at him.
"What changes?"
He hesitated.
Then opened a second envelope.
"Effective immediately, Mr. Ulette will no longer provide funds for the apartment, vehicle lease, or ongoing household expenses previously covered through his accounts."
Margaret watched Clare closely.
Waiting.
I recognized that look.
Gerald's favorite move.
Remove the money.
Watch the person panic.
Then offer to restore it in exchange for obedience.
Clare took the envelope.
Her hands trembled.
David reached for her shoulder.
She looked at the pages.
Then at the lawyer.
"Is that everything?"
"At present."
"Okay."
Margaret blinked.
"Okay?"
Clare nodded.
"Okay."
"Clare, sweetheart, you need to think carefully."
"I have."
"You can't afford that apartment without your father's help."
"We'll move."
"You'll lose the car."
"We have David's."
"You'll have to make sacrifices."
Clare looked at her.
"Then we'll make them."
Something shifted inside me.
The young girl who had cried from my bedroom window was gone.
In her place stood a woman who was terrified, exhausted, and choosing freedom anyway.
Gerald had spent fifteen years believing money was stronger than love.
He had never understood what happens when the people he's controlling finally decide that being poor would be better than being owned.
Margaret turned to David.
"Surely you'll talk sense into her."
David slipped his arm around Clare.
"She makes sense to me."
Margaret stared at them.
Then looked at me.
"You've poisoned her."
I shook my head.
"No."
I glanced at Clare.
"She just remembered she has a choice."
Margaret left without another word.
The lawyers followed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Clare began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not theatrically.
She simply bent forward and covered her face.
David knelt beside her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head.
"For what?"
"For the apartment."
"We'll find another."
"The car."
"We'll manage."
"The wedding."
He took her hands.
"Clare, I married you three weeks ago at the courthouse."
She looked up.
He smiled.
"Yesterday was just a very expensive party."
She laughed through her tears.
I turned toward the window.
Because suddenly I understood why Clare had asked me to stay.
She hadn't wanted me there simply to witness her courage.
She had wanted to see proof that a person could survive Gerald Ulette's punishment.
Elaine's phone buzzed.
She looked down.
Her expression changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
She handed me the screen.
An email.
Sent to her office that morning.
The subject line read:
NOTICE OF PENDING TRUST TERMINATION AND ASSET DISTRIBUTION.
Elaine opened the attachment.
I watched her read.
Then her face drained of color.
"Elaine?"
She looked up.
"Gerald has scheduled a meeting with the trustees."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"To do what?"
She swallowed.
"To distribute the assets he claims remain in your mother's trust."
Clare lifted her head.
"What assets?"
Elaine looked at both of us.
"According to this notice, almost none."
I stared at her.
"That isn't possible."
"No."
Her voice became quiet.
"And the paperwork says the losses happened three years before your mother died."
I thought of the binder in storage unit seventeen.
The Northbridge payments.
The transfer agreement.
The code NC-417.
Then I looked back at Elaine.
"Three years before Mom died?"
She nodded.
I felt the blood leave my face.
Because three years before my mother died was the same year she'd written me one of her most desperate letters.
May you like
The letter that ended with a sentence I hadn't understood until now.
Evie, if they tell you the money is gone, ask them who bought the house on Briar Lake.
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