Chapter 3

The canceled payments reached Eleanor before Adrian noticed his card was gone. The next morning, my phone rang from the kitchen island.

Eleanor’s name appeared on the screen.

I watched it ring several times before answering.

I barely had time to lift the phone to my ear before her angry voice came through.

"Claire, what have you done to my account?"

"The reception desk just informed me that several of my services have been canceled," Eleanor demanded. "My private dining plan, weekly wellness treatments and upgraded room service are all gone. Explain this immediately."

"I reviewed the household expenses last night," I said. "Those additional services were costing too much, so I canceled them."

"Costing too much?"

She sounded genuinely offended.

"I need those services. They are part of the standard of living I’m accustomed to."

"They aren’t necessary."

"That isn’t for you to decide," Eleanor snapped. "Adrian works hard enough already. You have always taken care of these little family matters, so fix the account before this becomes embarrassing."

Little family matters.

That was what she called the fifteen thousand dollars I paid every quarter.

For years, Eleanor had treated my money as though it naturally belonged to the Whitmore family.

She never thanked me because, in her mind, I was only doing what was expected.

"Not this time," I said.

"I’ll make sure your basic accommodation and medical care remain covered. But the luxury services are finished. Considering the current state of our relationship, I don’t see any reason to keep paying for them."

For several seconds, Eleanor said nothing.

"Did something happen between you and Adrian?"

The sudden nervousness in her tone caught my attention.

"No," I replied.

"If nothing happened, then stop behaving like this," she said quickly.

Her usual commanding tone returned.

"Your anniversary celebration is at the end of the week. Adrian has enough to deal with without you creating problems over money. As long as you are living in that house, helping this family is one of your responsibilities."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

As long as I was living in that house.

She spoke as though Adrian’s family had allowed me to stay there out of kindness.

The estate belonged to me.

My father had left it to me, and Adrian had never paid a single dollar toward purchasing it.

Yet Eleanor talked as if I were the guest.

"Then call the residence and correct everything."

I ended the call without making that promise.

That afternoon, Adrian arrived home earlier than usual.

He walked into my study and dropped a thick pile of cream-colored envelopes onto the desk.

They were invitations for the large anniversary party he planned to hold at the end of the week.

"Check these names," he said. "Make sure the important guests are all included."

He didn’t look at me while he spoke. His attention remained on his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen.

Yesterday, I would have spent hours reviewing every invitation. I would have checked the spelling, seating arrangements and business connections of every guest because I wanted Adrian’s event to be perfect.

Today, the envelopes looked like nothing more than a pile of expensive paper.

"They’re your guests, Adrian. You can check them."

His hands stopped moving.

He finally looked up at me, his eyebrows drawing together.

"You always handle the invitations."

"I don’t want to handle them this time."

His confusion quickly turned to irritation.

"What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing."

I met his eyes without looking away.

He wasn’t concerned about me.

He was annoyed because the person who usually obeyed him had suddenly said no.

"You’re being strange," he said.

"Then you should have no trouble checking the list yourself."

Adrian stared at me for another moment before picking up the envelopes.

"Fine."

He left the room without another word.

That evening, he shut himself inside his study, claiming he had several urgent business matters to finish.

I returned to my own study and opened the large envelope I had taken from the desk drawer the night before.

After checking another set of financial records, I placed the second document inside.

Adrian had already begun to notice the difference.

My refusals unsettled him. He was used to receiving everything he asked for without questions. Now that I had stopped cooperating, small cracks were beginning to appear in his confidence.

Later, as I walked down the hallway, I noticed that the door to Adrian’s study had not closed completely.

Adrian was pacing near the window with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Calm down, Mom," he said impatiently. "I’ll pay for the extra services myself."

He paused and listened.

Then he lowered his voice.

"Stop worrying. Claire doesn’t know."

I froze in the dark hallway.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

Claire doesn’t know.

The words repeated in my mind.

Whatever loyalty I still felt toward the Whitmore family ended in that hallway.

Eleanor knew.

She knew Adrian had divorced me.

She knew he was legally married to Vanessa.

And for three years, she had allowed me to pay for her private suite, special meals and expensive treatments while pretending I was still her daughter-in-law.

How many times had she smiled at me while hiding the truth?

How many other people knew?

My hands slowly curled into fists.

I didn’t confront Adrian or demand an explanation.

I stepped away from the door and walked silently back down the hallway.

If they wanted to hide behind secrets, I would let them.

For now.