Harlan turns the page.
“Claire, by the time you hear these words, you will have already suffered enough indignity in silence. I know more than you think I know. I knew about Lauren. I knew about the apartment in Clayton. I knew about the lies told over charity dinners, business trips, and hospital visits. I knew because weak men repeat themselves, and women who clean up after them hear everything.”
For one heartbeat nobody moves.
Then Ethan says, too quickly, “This is inappropriate.”
Harlan does not even look up.
“With respect,” he says, “the deceased anticipated that objection. She instructed me to continue without interruption.”
It is a small thing, that refusal.
But it lands in the room like a judge’s gavel.
I feel heat crawl back into my hands.
Margaret knew.
Not only knew, but planned.