She tilted her head.
“They’ll take everything you have.”
“Maybe. But they haven’t taken everything I am.”
Claire pressed a hand against her chest.
For one moment, she seemed less like an enemy and more like a wounded person.
“You know what I wanted most?”
I waited.
“Not the company. Not the money. I wanted him to look at me the way he looked at you. Just once.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“But he never did. Even on our wedding day, he was thinking about you.”
She gave a hollow laugh.
“And that hurt more than every year in hiding combined.”
I said nothing.
Some pain doesn’t need an answer.
The boardroom doors opened.
Arthur Barlowe entered.
He was older than I remembered.
Gray hair.
Gray suit.
Sharp, restless eyes.
“Good morning, Claire,” he said gently.
Claire looked at him, then at me.
“You handed me over.”
“I handed you a chance,” he said. “A fair trial. An open accounting.”
Her expression fell.
Dad appeared behind Arthur in the doorway.
He looked tired.
Broken.
Claire walked past him without speaking.
Dad didn’t reach for her.
He didn’t say her name.
He simply watched her leave.
