Chapter 3

The dinner was awkward. I was quiet, processing the impossible. I could hear Chloe's thoughts, a constant stream of anxiety.

She's so quiet. Does she hate the locket? Did I say something wrong? I should have just brought wine.

I tried to be pleasant, asking her about nursing school. Her answers were polite, but her mind was racing.

She seems nice enough. Not at all like the snob Ethan described. He said she'd probably quiz me on my family's income.

My son, on the other hand, was the perfect host, filling the silences, laughing, and patting Chloe's hand. He was a master performer. I watched him, really watched him, for the first time. I saw the subtle glances he shot my way, checking my reaction to Chloe. He was managing me.

After Chloe left, Ethan helped me with the dishes.

"So, what did you think?" he asked, his tone casual. "She's great, right?"

"She seems like a very sweet girl," I said carefully, my eyes on the plate I was washing.

He sighed dramatically. "Yeah, she is. But her family... they're a lot."

I stopped washing. "What do you mean?"

"They're old money," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Very protective. They don't think a junior loan officer at a regional bank is good enough for their daughter."

I turned to face him, my heart starting to beat a little faster. Here it comes.

"They're demanding I show a proof of funds," he said, looking down as if embarrassed. "To prove I can provide for her. They want to see a bank statement with at least $150,000 in it."

The number hit me like a physical blow. $150,000. The exact amount he claimed Chloe had stolen in my previous life. The money from my 401(k).

"It's just for show, of course," he added quickly. "I don't have to give them the money. I just have to prove I have access to it. I was thinking... maybe you could liquidate your retirement account? Just for a day. I'll show them the statement, and then you can put it right back. It's the only way they'll approve of our marriage."

I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind. The lie was so elaborate, so specific. It was the same lie, just repackaged for a new purpose.

In my past life, I had been a grieving, trusting mother. I would have done it without a second thought.

But I wasn't that woman anymore.

"Let me think about it, Ethan," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Why don't we have Chloe over for dinner again on Friday? We can all talk about it then."

His face lit up. "Really, Mom? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, dear," I said, turning back to the sink. "I'd do anything for my son's happiness."

He hugged me from behind, squeezing me tight.

"You're the best mom in the world."

I felt nothing but a cold, spreading dread. The trap wasn't for me anymore. It was for him.