Chapter 9 - When Lorraine Finally Saw HimFor two years, Lorraine Parker had made me the villain of her life.
I was the woman who stole her son.
The woman who did not cook correctly.
The woman who worked too much, spoke too little, bought the wrong towels, used the wrong tone, and refused to understand that Andrew’s needs came before my own.
But when she slapped him in my hallway, she did not do it for me.
She did it because, for one terrible second, she saw herself in the wreckage.
Andrew had used her grief.
Her dependence.
Her pride.
Her belief that he was better than other men.
He had turned his own mother into a weapon, and now she realized weapons were disposable.
Andrew touched his cheek slowly.
“You hit me.”
Lorraine’s hand shook.
“You lied to me.”
His eyes darkened. “Everything I did, I did because this family needed money.”
“No,” I said. “You did it because you wanted a woman in my robe and investors in my cottage.”
He turned on me. “You think you’re so clean? You loved being the martyr. Saint Claire. Paying for everything. Saving everyone. You never missed a chance to remind me what I didn’t have.”
“That is not true.”
“You didn’t have to say it. This house said it. That cottage said it. Your job said it.”
I stared at him.
All these years, I had mistaken his resentment for insecurity I could soothe.
But Andrew had not wanted reassurance.
He had wanted ownership over things he had not earned.
Lorraine bent slowly and picked up one of the pages from the floor. Her eyes scanned it.
“What is this?” she asked.
Andrew reached for it. “Give me that.”
She stepped back.
“What is this loan?”
His face tightened.
“Mom.”
“Answer me.”
Daniel picked up the folder and returned the documents to the table.
Rebecca remained on speaker, silent now, listening.
Lorraine read another line.
“My life insurance?”
I looked at Andrew.
“What?”
Lorraine’s face drained.
She held out the page.
It was not one of mine. It must have been tucked among the materials Daniel brought, part of Rebecca’s evidence packet.
The document referenced Lorraine Parker as a dependent relative in a financial hardship statement.
Attached was a projected care-cost summary.
And beneath it, a notation about a life insurance policy.
Beneficiary: Andrew Parker.
Lorraine sank into the hallway chair.
“You told them I was bedridden.”
Andrew rubbed both hands over his face. “It was paperwork.”
“You told them I required daily care.”
“It increased the hardship profile.”
I felt sick.
Lorraine, cruel as she was, had not deserved that.
No one deserved to discover their child had turned their body into a financial prop.
Lorraine looked up at me then.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked ashamed.
Not apologetic yet.
Just cracked open.
“You knew about Madison,” I said.
Her lips trembled. “I knew there was someone. I thought…”
She stopped.
“You thought what?”
She looked at Andrew.
“I thought he would get it out of his system.”
The words were ugly.
But they were honest.
“I thought if you became softer, more attentive, he would remember what he had at home.”
I almost could not breathe.
“So you threw a pot at me?”
Her face folded. “I wanted you downstairs before he came home. I wanted the house warm. Breakfast ready. I thought if he saw you trying—”
“Trying to earn back a husband who was stealing from me?”
Lorraine covered her mouth.
Andrew said, “Don’t act like she’s innocent. She knew marriages take work.”
I turned to him. “Work is not the same as humiliation.”
Rebecca spoke then, her voice quiet.
“Claire, Madison is on her way there.”
Every head turned toward the phone.
Andrew froze.
“What?” I said.
Rebecca continued, “She called Clayton twenty minutes ago. She knows Daniel delivered the packet. She is furious. She said Andrew had better fix it before she arrives.”
Andrew lunged for the phone.
Daniel blocked him.
Lorraine stood, suddenly terrified. “Who is this woman?”
I looked through the front window.
The street was empty.
For now.
Marisol’s voice returned on the conference call. She must have been listening the whole time.
“Claire,” she said, “do not open the door for Madison Vale.”
Andrew laughed harshly. “This is ridiculous.”
Marisol ignored him. “Daniel, stay with her until the second officer arrives.”
“Already planning to,” Daniel said.
I looked at Andrew.
“You need to leave.”
He lifted his chin. “I live here.”
“No. You stayed here.”
“That distinction won’t hold.”
“Maybe not today,” I said. “But eventually, it will.”
A car turned onto our street too fast.
White convertible.
Blonde woman behind the wheel.
Lorraine whispered, “Oh my God.”
The car stopped in front of my house.
Madison Vale stepped out wearing oversized sunglasses, a cream coat, and the expression of a woman who had never been told no by someone she considered beneath her.
She looked at the house.
May you like
Then at me through the window.
And smiled.
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