Chapter 3 - The Return to Maple RidgeAt 1:15 A.M., my sedan pulled into the driveway of 1428 Maple Ridge Drive.
The warm yellow lights of our living room spilled across the wet lawn. Standing near the curb under an umbrella, wearing a dark trench coat, was Sophie.
I put the car in park, stepped out into the chilly rain, and closed the door cleanly. Milo stayed safely in the back seat with his blanket.
Sophie walked toward me, her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale under the streetlights. She didn't look like the confident, glamorous woman from the restaurant photos. She looked exhausted, scared, and deeply ashamed.
"Claire..." Sophie whispered, her voice trembling against the wind. "I'm so sorry. I swear to you... I didn't know what my brother was doing until I found the foreclosure filing in Gideon's private desk two hours ago. Ryan thought... Ryan thought I liked him. He told me everything about your marriage because he wanted me to think he was miserable."
"He was miserable, Sophie," I said softly, my voice quiet, flat, and absolute. "Because he was lying every single day."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her hazel eyes searching my face. "Gideon's legal team is arriving at his office at eight o'clock tomorrow morning to force Ryan to sign the trust transfer papers. If Ryan signs them... your mother's trust is gone."
"Ryan isn't signing anything tomorrow," I replied, my posture straight as iron as I looked toward the front porch. "And neither am I."
I walked up the stone walkway, unlocked the front door with my key, and stepped into the warm foyer.
The house smelled of cedar, old leather, and spilled scotch.
Ryan stood near the kitchen island, wearing his dark blue anniversary shirt—the shirt I had complimented six hours ago. His collar was unbuttoned, his dark hair disheveled, a half-empty glass of amber liquor clutched tightly in his hand.
When he saw me step through the doorway, his eyes widened in wild, frantic relief.
"Claire!" Ryan gasped, dropping his glass onto the counter, taking three fast, clumsy steps toward me. "My God, Claire! You came back! Look, I can explain everything about tonight! The photo... holding hands under the table... it was a joke! Sophie was crying because of her boyfriend, and I was just trying to comfort her—"
"Stop lying, Ryan," I said cleanly.
May you like
My voice dropped into the room like a heavy block of cold granite.
Ryan froze in mid-stride, his arms hovering in the air, his face draining of color as he looked at my face—seeing zero tears, zero panic, and zero fear.
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