Chapter 11 - THE MISSING SIX MINUTESI met Jenna at a coffee shop.
She brought the original recording.
The viral clip began with my toast.
The full recording began six minutes earlier.
Jenna had accidentally left her phone recording on the table.
At first, nothing mattered.
Guests talking.
Silverware.
Music.
Then Claire's voice appeared.
Quiet.
She was speaking to her mother.
Diane asked:
“Did you tell him?”
Claire replied:
“Not yet.”
“About the school?”
“No.”
“Then when?”
“After the honeymoon.”
My skin went cold.
Diane knew.
The conversation continued.
“What if Emmett refuses?”
“He won't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I'll tell him I'm pregnant.”
I stared at the screen.
Diane whispered:
“Are you?”
Claire answered:
“No.”
The recording ended shortly afterward.
Emmett listened that evening.
He didn't speak for a long time.
Claire had planned another manipulation.
A fake pregnancy.
Not because she was evil in some simple storybook way.
Because she was desperate to secure a place she believed could always be taken away.
But desperation had become deception.
Pain had become control.
The distinction mattered.
Emmett gave the recording to his attorney.
Then something unexpected happened.
Claire requested a meeting.
Not with Emmett.
With me.
I almost refused.
Then I agreed.
We met in a therapist's office.
Claire looked different.
No designer clothes.
No perfect makeup.
Her hair was shorter.
She looked tired.
Human.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said:
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
“I hated Phoebe too.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“And I loved her.”
That surprised me.
Claire looked down.
“She helped me when nobody else did.”
“Then why try to erase her?”
“Because every time I saw how much everyone loved her, I remembered how little anyone had loved me.”
There was the wound again.
“I thought if Emmett chose me over her memory, I'd finally be worth something.”
I leaned forward.
“Claire, another person's love cannot repair a hole you refuse to look at.”
She nodded.
“I know that now.”
“Good.”
She looked at me.
“Do you forgive me?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
Her face fell.
“But maybe someday.”
She nodded.
I continued.
“Forgiveness isn't something you ask from me first.”
“I know.”
“You hurt Margot.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I know.”
“And you may never receive forgiveness from her.”
“I know.”
“Can you live with that?”
Claire wiped her face.
“I have to.”
For the first time since I met her, I believed her.
Then she reached into her bag.
“I brought something.”
She placed an envelope on the table.
Phoebe's handwriting was on the front.
My breath stopped.
“Where did you get that?”
Claire looked at me.
“She gave it to me seven years ago.”
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The envelope said:
FOR THE DAY YOU THINK YOU DON'T MATTER.
