Chapter 3 - THE SILVER WATCH
The heavy silver pocket watch sat on the pristine white tablecloth like a bomb waiting to detonate.
Claire stared at it. The watch was old, engraved with a delicate floral pattern around the edges. She recognized it instantly. It had belonged to Tom’s grandfather. Tom used to keep it on his dresser when they were married.
When he packed his bags to leave her five years ago, he claimed he had lost it.
Why did Vincent Marino have it?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom stammered, his hands dropping below the table. He refused to look at the watch.
Rebecca leaned forward, her brow furrowing. “Tom? What is that?”
“It’s a family heirloom,” Vincent answered for him, leaning back in his chair, looking perfectly relaxed. “Thomas left it in my office five years ago. I thought tonight would be an appropriate time to return it.”
Henry Callahan, sitting at the head of the table, narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you do business with a mid-level bank manager, Marino?”
“Since he required a rather large, undocumented loan,” Vincent replied smoothly.
The table went dead silent.
Claire felt a cold chill run down her arms.
Five years ago. That was exactly when Tom had told her his investment firm was downsizing. It was when they lost their house. It was the same month he started having “late dinners” with Rebecca.
“You borrowed money from him?” Claire asked, her voice steady but laced with steel. She looked directly at her ex-husband.
Tom’s jaw worked, but no sound came out.
Rebecca let out a sharp, nervous laugh, trying to reclaim control of the narrative. She looked at Claire with pitying eyes.
“Oh, Claire, let’s not do this here,” Rebecca said, patting Tom’s arm. “Tom went through a very stressful transition back then. We all know things were falling apart for you two. And really, bringing your… employer to our reunion to cause a scene is a bit desperate, don’t you think?”
Rebecca looked around the table, waiting for validation. “I mean, we all know you clean houses now. There’s no shame in it. But pretending you’re dating Chicago’s most terrifying bachelor just to make Tom jealous?”
Claire felt the familiar sting of humiliation prick her neck. This was exactly what she had dreaded. The condescension. The public unmasking.
She opened her mouth to defend herself.
Vincent’s hand covered hers under the table. His grip was warm and grounding.
“Claire is not my employee, Mrs. Morgan,” Vincent said.
Rebecca smirked. “Oh, please. Susan saw her buying groceries in a uniform last week.”
“Claire manages my primary estate because she is the only person I trust with my home,” Vincent said, his tone turning dangerously cold. “But she does not work for me.”
He reached out and picked up the silver watch.
“She works for herself,” Vincent continued, his eyes locking onto Tom. “Because five years ago, when Thomas came to me begging for two million dollars to cover the client funds he had embezzled, he offered this watch as collateral.”
Tom violently flinched.
Several people at the table gasped. Callahan sat up perfectly straight.
“I refused the watch,” Vincent said. “But I paid his debt. On one condition.”
Claire’s heart stopped. She turned to look at Vincent. “What condition?”
Vincent finally looked at her, his expression softening just a fraction, revealing a vulnerability she had never seen before.
“That he leave you,” Vincent said quietly.
The ballroom around them seemed to vanish. Claire couldn’t breathe.
“You bought my marriage?” Claire whispered, the betrayal burning hot in her chest.
“I bought your freedom,” Vincent corrected, his voice tight. “He was going to federal prison, Claire. They were going to take everything you owned. They were going to freeze your accounts, take your home, and charge you as an accessory because your name was on his banking licenses. He was going to let you go down with him.”
Vincent looked back at Tom with pure disgust. “So I paid the two million. And I told him to walk away and take the blame for the divorce, or I would let the feds have him.”
Claire looked at Tom. He couldn't meet her eyes. He was sweating, staring at his empty dinner plate.
It was true. All of it. Tom hadn’t left her for Rebecca out of love. He had been bought and discarded to save his own skin. And Rebecca hadn't stolen a prize; she had inherited a coward.
Claire felt a sudden, fierce rush of adrenaline. Eleven years of feeling inadequate, of feeling discarded, evaporated in a single second.
Henry Callahan cleared his throat loudly, breaking the tension. He looked at Vincent with a new, calculating respect.
“That’s a fascinating story, Marino,” Callahan said, swirling his whiskey. “But you didn’t come to a high school reunion just to return a watch and play white knight. You came because you know I’m sitting here.”
May you like
Callahan leaned forward, his eyes shifting to Claire.
“So tell me, Claire,” Callahan said, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur. “Since Marino is so invested in your past… does he know what you left at the Lakehouse twenty years ago?”
