Page 120 of Ruthless Claim

She really believed that love of a child was sufficient armor against the kind of world she’s walked into. She thought because she remembers a man in a pub in Belfast, who was funny and present and a good listener, that decency would hold in every direction.

Ha. She doesn’t know what kind of family this is. She doesn’t know what kind of world this is.

She should have known before she knocked on my door.

“More tea?” I ask her brightly.

Claire shakes her head quickly, biting her lip. Her eyes dart to her son, as if making sure he’s still there before they dart toward the door.

The color hasn’t fully come back to her face yet. I’ve rattled the fuck out of her. I do wonder what she was thinking when she decided to come here. Did she really think that the wife of Cillian Brennan wouldn’t be a viper herself?

I let the silence sit for a moment and take a sip of my tea. I look out the window at the New York skyline.

I’ll never get over how beautiful it is. I let her have another few seconds with whatever she’s currently processing.

Then I look back at her and I smile.

“I’m sorry,” I say, warmly. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you. That was a lot of information at once and I’m sure you have a lot to think about.” I pretend to choose my words. “Cillian can be very—he inspires strong feelings, doesn’t he? It’s easy to assume the best when it comes to him.”

Claire blinks. She’s trying to find her footing again. “I—uh, yes, I—he seemed like a good person. When I knew him.”

“He really is,” I agree, with tremendous warmth. “He absolutely is. I’m sure everything will work out beautifully.” I lean forward in my chair. “Can you tell me when you first reached out to him?”

Claire looks puzzled. “He—he didn’t tell you?” She studies me for a moment. “About a month ago.”

I don’t move or change my expression.

A month ago is exactly when Cillian started going out to the balcony for calls with the door shut.

A month ago is when I first felt the first stirrings of something’s wrong.

A month of making up stories, every version worse than the last, a month of watching my marriage feel like it was made of paper.

He’s lied to me for a month.

The word for what I feel right now is not one I’m using in front of company.

“A month ago,” I repeat, pleasant as anything. “And you’ve met a few times since then.”

“Yes,” she says, not looking at all sorry that she met with another woman’s husband. “Cillian wanted to verify everything before he said anything to you. He didn’t want to worry you while you’re—” Her eyes drop briefly to my stomach. “While you’re expecting. He was trying to protect you.”

She says it like it’s reasonable.

Like my husband keeping a month-long secret from his pregnant wife about a woman from his past and her child is a loving and thoughtful decision that makes complete sense.

She says it just slightly too smoothly, too prepared, and I don’t like it. Something underneath her voice makes my skin crawl.

“How considerate of him,” I say, pleasant as anything.

Claire nods, missing the tone entirely. Or choosing to miss it.

“And when exactly,” I say, my voice going very soft, “were you planning to tell me? About any of this? Was there a point in your plan where Cillian’s wife was going to find out her husband had been meeting with you for a month?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Or were you just going to show up at my door with your son and let that be the announcement?”

Claire flushes bright red, embarrassed. Good. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she does look uncomfortable, which brings me joy. “I thought Cillian had told you by now. I assumed—when he stopped returning my calls, I didn’t know what was happening. I got worried.” She runs a hand over her hair, causing more strands of hair to stick up. God, she needs a good conditioner. “I thought maybe something had happened, or that he was having second thoughts about acknowledging Finn.” She pauses, shifting on the sofa. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay. That’s the only reason I came.”

She says so sincerely, the picture of a woman wanting to be honest about her completely reasonable and human concerns.

It is, as I said, very good.