Thomas stood up, smoothing his suit jacket, his face now a mask of anxious concern. “Claire, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” he said, trying for a soothing tone that only made my skin crawl.
“You’ve made it difficult enough,” I replied, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll be waiting for the car outside.”
Margaret moved toward me, starting to speak, but for the first time, there was a hesitation in her step. The power dynamic had shifted, and she was no longer the imperious matriarch she’d been moments before.
“Claire, we didn’t know,” she started, softer now, her eyes darting to Jonathan, who was still staring at his untouched plate.
I shook my head, cutting her off. “You knew exactly who I was. You just never cared.”
The room was silent, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. I turned and walked out the front door, into the crisp night air, leaving behind the facade of a perfect dinner party and stepping into the reality that awaited me.
