The Unspoken Lies

Clara: I... I don't know what you're talking about. Give me those papers!

Mark: Stand back, Clara. You told me when we got married that your family had nothing left. You told me we had to take out a high-interest mortgage just to pay for our apartment!

Clara: Mark, listen to me! I swear I didn't know about any of this!

Mark: You didn't know? Your father's personal signature is on every single page! Look at this date—it was notarized five years ago, three months before we got married!

Lily: Mommy, why are you crying?

Clara: Sweetheart, go downstairs to the kitchen and watch cartoons on my phone, okay? Go on.

Lily: But I want to see what's in the wall!

Mark: Lily, go downstairs like your mother said. Right now.

Lily scrambled out of the bedroom, her small footsteps fading down the stairs. Mark stepped completely out of the secret passage, holding the thick pile of documents in his hands. His face was pale, his eyes locked onto his wife.

Mark: You forced me to sell my father's vintage car collection to pay off our debts last year. You sat at the kitchen table and cried, telling me we were going to lose everything if I didn't sell it.

Clara: Mark, I didn't have access to this money! I didn't even know this house belonged to him!

Mark: Then explain why this property was sold through a foreclosing bank that lists your uncle's law firm as the executor!

Clara: My uncle? Uncle Richard?

Mark: Yes! Richard Miller! The lawyer who arranged the purchase of this exact house for us three weeks ago! He told us it was a bank foreclosure bargain!

Clara: He... he told me he was helping us out. He said he found a great deal on a repo house!

Mark: He didn't find a bargain, Clara. He steered us right back to your father's hidden asset! Why would he do that unless you were in on it?

Clara: I wasn't! I swear on Lily's life, I had no idea Richard was hiding anything!

Mark: Then let's look at what else is in this briefcase.

Mark pulled out a dark velvet pouch and untied the drawstring. A heavy gold ring set with a brilliant diamond tumbled out into his palm, along with a stack of handwritten letters bound by a faded blue ribbon.

Mark: This ring... this is your mother's heirloom ring. The one you claimed was stolen from your apartment six years ago!

Clara: My ring? How... how is that in there?

Mark: You filed a police report for insurance fraud, didn't you? You collected a forty-thousand-dollar payout for this ring!

Clara: No! Mark, stop! You're making assumptions that aren't true!

Mark: The insurance settlement check is right here in the folder! Deposited directly into an account under your name!

Clara: I can explain that... please, just let me explain!