Chapter 7 - The Price of My Sister's Loyalty
I drove to my parents' house on Thursday afternoon.
Natalie's attorney had advised her to tell the truth to investigators.
My attorney had advised me not to discuss disputed financial documents with her privately.
So I hadn't come to interrogate her.
I'd come for one reason.
I needed to look my sister in the eyes and decide whether the relationship we'd once had was even worth remembering.
Dad opened the door.
He looked exhausted.
“She's in the living room.”
I nodded.
Mom was sitting beside Natalie on the sofa.
My younger sister wore a gray sweater and black leggings.
Her hair was tied back.
Without makeup, she looked younger.
More fragile.
More like the little girl I'd pulled from a frozen pond.
“Claire.”
I stood near the doorway.
“Hi.”
Mom rose.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
She hesitated.
Then Dad gently guided her toward the kitchen.
Natalie and I were alone.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I looked at her.
“Are you sorry you did it, or sorry it didn't work?”
Her eyes filled.
“Both.”
The answer surprised me.
At least it was honest.
I sat opposite her.
“Why did you agree to stand on that stage?”
She stared at her hands.
“I thought Eric was going to leave you.”
“He told you that?”
She nodded.
“And Victor?”
“He promised to clear my debts.”
I swallowed.
“One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars?”
She looked startled.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“I only got twenty.”
I almost laughed.
“You say that like someone cheated you.”
She flinched.
“I didn't mean it that way.”
“Then what did you mean?”
She twisted her fingers.
“I was desperate.”
I leaned back.
“Natalie, you could've told me you were in financial trouble.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because you would've asked questions.”
I stared at her.
“Yes.”
She started crying.
“You always make me feel like a failure.”
I took a breath.
“No, Natalie. I ask questions because you've repeatedly lied about money.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“Eric understood.”
I looked at her.
“Eric gave you money that wasn't his to give.”
Silence.
“Victor promised you more money in exchange for humiliating me.”
She looked away.
“And you called that understanding?”
Her face crumpled.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, “I wanted to matter.”
I shook my head.
“You mattered before Eric.”
She began crying harder.
“Not like you.”
There it was.
The comparison.
The competition I'd never agreed to join.
She looked at me.
“Everyone was proud of you. Your military service. Your career. Your house. Your perfect marriage.”
I stared at her.
“My perfect marriage?”
“I know.”
She covered her face.
“I know how stupid that sounds.”
I thought about the hundreds of times she'd heard someone compliment me.
The jokes about how responsible I was.
How I always had everything figured out.
How Natalie would eventually grow up to be like her sister.
I'd never known how much she resented those comparisons.
But resentment didn't explain away betrayal.
“You could've built your own life,” I said.
She nodded through tears.
“I know.”
“You didn't have to take mine.”
She looked at me.
“I thought if Eric chose me, people would stop comparing us.”
I swallowed.
“And when Victor entered the picture?”
She looked down.
“I thought he could give me a life I didn't have to struggle for.”
I closed my eyes.
She'd allowed two men to make her promises.
Then destroyed our relationship trying to collect.
I stood.
Natalie looked up.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
She began crying.
“Claire, please don't abandon me.”
I stopped.
There was that word again.
Abandon.
The accusation I'd heard every time I said no.
Every time I refused a loan.
Every time I insisted she solve her own problem.
I looked back.
“I'll help you get professional assistance if your safety is threatened. I won't hide evidence, pay your debts, or pretend you didn't hurt me.”
She stared at me.
“You're my sister.”
“Yes.”
“Doesn't that mean anything?”
“It meant enough for me to spend twenty-five years protecting you.”
My voice cracked.
“Apparently, it didn't mean enough for you to protect me once.”
Natalie lowered her head.
I walked toward the door.
Then she spoke.
“Claire?”
I stopped.
“There was something before the affair.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She looked terrified.
“I knew Eric's company wasn't doing what he said.”
I turned slowly.
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
She swallowed.
“Eight years.”
I stared.
Eight years?
Eric and I had been married for ten.
The affair began three years earlier.
Victor's relationship with Natalie began roughly a year before the anniversary party.
But eight years?
“What did you know?”
She began crying again.
“I was working for Merritt.”
I remembered the company records.
Natalie's email account.
The payroll references.
“You told me you didn't know anything about Merritt until recently.”
“I lied.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I was already involved.”
I studied her face.
“How involved?”
She shook her head.
“I need to tell my attorney first.”
I nodded.
“Then do that.”
She looked surprised.
“Aren't you going to make me explain?”
“No.”
I took a breath.
“I've spent years trying to force you to tell the truth. I'm finished doing that.”
I started walking again.
Then Natalie said something that stopped me cold.
“Claire, Eric and Victor knew each other before your wedding.”
I turned.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Eric lied about when they met.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Why?”
She looked down.
“Because Victor was involved in the first investment plan.”
I stared at her.
“Before we married?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
She swallowed.
“Not everything.”
I held her gaze.
“But enough?”
She didn't answer.
I left without another word.
Outside, Dad was standing beside my car.
He looked at my face.
“What happened?”
I shook my head.
“I can't talk about it yet.”
He nodded.
Then opened his arms.
I stepped into them.
For the first time since the affair became public, I let myself cry in front of my father.
Not because Natalie had betrayed me.
I'd already known that.
Because the betrayal was older than I'd imagined.
And every new fact threatened another memory I'd once believed was real.
That evening, Grant called.
“Claire, I've contacted Vanessa Reed.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
“A woman who worked for Merritt eight years ago.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“She knew Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Eric?”
“Yes.”
“And Victor?”
A pause.
“That's why I called.”
I sat down.
“What did she say?”
Grant exhaled.
“She says she met all three of them at the same office.”
I closed my eyes.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
I thought about Natalie crying in my parents' living room.
About the false confession.
The financial transactions.
The anniversary plan.
Then Grant continued.
“Vanessa also says Eric introduced Natalie as his administrative assistant.”
I swallowed.
“Was she?”
“Apparently.”
I stared at the wall.
My sister had been helping my husband build a secret financial life years before she became his mistress.
And neither had ever told me.
Then Grant said, “Vanessa has a photograph she wants you to see.”
“What photograph?”
“Eric and Victor.”
I waited.
“The date is eleven years ago.”
I stopped breathing.
Eleven years.
A year before my wedding.
May you like
And suddenly, I was no longer wondering when my husband started lying.
I was wondering whether he'd been lying before he ever asked me to marry him.
