Chapter 3

I arrived at the firm on time for the Hartwell presentation.

My name was missing from the meeting invitation. I had sent the backup files to the project team and brought a printed copy to confirm they had everything they needed.

Before the meeting began, Mara suddenly stopped walking. Her breathing quickened.

“I cannot do this, Adrian.”

“You are prepared,” he said.

She looked at me through gathering tears. “If Claire sits in there, I will feel like a thief. One look from her will remind me that I took her project and destroyed her notes.”

Adrian turned to me. “Wait outside, Claire.”

“I can answer questions about the risk model.”

“Your presence is making her panic. We cannot let her break down in front of the client.”

I placed the printed files on the table beside the door.

“The backup files are in your email. If the team needs clarification, I will be at my desk.”

I returned to my office and continued preparing my handover. At noon, I went downstairs for lunch.

Adrian came to my desk after the presentation.

“Did you say something to her before the meeting?”

“What do you mean?”

“She kept saying she stole your work. Did you pressure her in private?”

“No. I delivered the materials and left.”

He remained beside my desk.

“If there is a problem with the files, send me the specific question,” I said.

Then I turned back to my report.

That evening, I started packing what remained in the apartment. When I opened the bedside drawer, the small wooden cat was gone.

Adrian had given it to me during his first year in Boston. It was cheap and unevenly carved, with one crooked ear. He had said it resembled me because I looked quiet while keeping my opinions to myself.

I found it in the kitchen trash. One ear had broken off, and fresh scratches covered its side.

Mara appeared in the doorway. “Claire, I did not mean to break it. Seeing it reminded me of the things Daniel used to carve. I became upset and dropped it.”

“You had to open my drawer to find it.”

She lowered her eyes.

“Do not go through my things again.”

I brushed the crumbs from the carving. My thumb caught on the fresh scratches where the wood had once been smooth.

I wrapped it in a clean tissue and put it inside my suitcase.

The following afternoon, Mara screamed from the living room. Adrian and I reached her at the same time.

She was kneeling on the carpet with a broken mosaic in her lap. Adrian had taken her to a craft workshop after Daniel’s death and helped her piece together a sunrise.

He had told her it was a reminder that she still had a future. Now the frame was snapped, and pieces of the sun lay scattered across the carpet.

Mara stared at me. “Why would you do this?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were angry because I broke your wooden cat, so you destroyed the one thing that made me feel I could start over.”

“I never touched that mosaic.”

“You were the only person near my room. Adrian was on a call. I saw you pass, and it was undamaged before I went to shower.”

Adrian lifted the broken mosaic from her lap. His face hardened as he ran his thumb over the sun they had pieced together.

“Did you go into her room?” he asked.

“No.”

“Mara said you were angry about the cat.”

I stared at him. “Do you think I did this?”

He did not answer immediately. His silence told me enough.

“I was there when she made this,” he finally said. “It gave her something to look forward to. She would never destroy it herself.”

He had known me for seven years. Yet he was certain she could never destroy something precious, while my denial counted for nothing.

“You can take her side,” I said. “But you do not get to treat her tears as proof that I did this.”

He stepped toward me.

“I only want to understand what happened.”

I moved back before he could touch me.

“I told you I did not touch it. You chose not to believe me.”

I returned to the study and closed the door before he could follow.