The Call That Destroyed My Father Chapter 02
The front desk clerk checked the system, then gave me an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry, but that involves guest privacy.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Then can you at least tell me what the woman who checked in with him looked like?”
The clerk lowered her voice.
“I’m not supposed to say much. But she was pretty young. Under 30, I’d say. She had that gallery-owner look. Very artsy.”
Under 30.
Art world.
I walked out and opened the location I had found for Harrington Jewelers.
I went straight to the jewelry store and found a sales associate with a softer expression.
“Hi. I wanted to ask whether a Mr. Warren bought a necklace here on the 14th of last month.”
I gave her my father’s phone number.
The sales associate checked the system and smiled.
“Yes. Mr. Warren is one of our VIP clients. That day, he came in with a very beautiful woman and bought one of our limited seasonal diamond pieces.”
“Do you know her name?”
“I think it was Serena Lane. Mr. Warren called her Serena. They seemed very close. The woman said the necklace was too expensive and she didn’t want it, but Mr. Warren insisted on buying it.”
Serena Lane.
When I got home, my mother was watering plants on the balcony.
Her hair was twisted into a loose knot behind her head.
“Claire, you’re back?” She turned and smiled at me. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll make it.”
I looked at her, and my eyes burned.
“Mom.”
I walked over and hugged her from behind.
“What’s wrong?” My mother patted my hand. “You’re too old to be this clingy.”
“Mom, have you ever thought about going back to work?” I asked carefully.
My mother froze for a second, then smiled.
“What job would I get? I’m in my 50s.” She laughed. “Besides, Richard wouldn’t want that. He says he can cover the household expenses and I should just stay home.”
I looked at the plants on the balcony.
It felt like something cold and heavy had settled on my chest.
I couldn’t tell her directly.
She had high blood pressure. She couldn’t handle that kind of shock.
I had to find solid evidence first.
I had to find Serena.
I scrolled through post after post.
At last, I found an Instagram account called @SerenaInBloom.
I opened her profile.
It was full of bright, carefree photos.
I scrolled down one post at a time.
On the 14th of last month, she had posted a photo.
It was a close-up of a diamond necklace.
The caption read, “He says marriage is a cage, but with me, he can finally breathe.”
I let out a cold laugh.
He could finally breathe?
She was spending my family’s money and wearing a $3,500 necklace, and she had the nerve to write that.
I kept scrolling.
There was a photo from last weekend at The Marlowe Grand Resort.
In the photo, 2 hands, 1 large and 1 small, rested together.
The caption read, “A weekend away from the city with my little love. Grateful for the man who protects us from everything.”
I stared hard at the photo.
The carpet pattern in the background was identical to the promotional photo for The Marlowe Grand Resort’s family suite.
At the edge of the photo, half of a man’s watch was visible.
It was the watch I’d bought my dad last year with my first internship paycheck.
I saved screenshots of every photo.
Most of the account’s location tags were in Cedar Ridge Estates in Southridge.
Any house there started in the seven figures.
My father was a partner at an architecture firm.
Where had he gotten that much money?
That night, my father came home acting like the same good father and good husband as always.
“Claire, how’s the job search going?” he asked me at dinner. “If you can’t find something suitable, I can arrange for you to join my firm.”
“No thanks, Dad.” I took a bite of food. “I want to try on my own.”
“Stubborn.” My father smiled and shook his head. “That part of you is just like Diane.”
I looked at him and suddenly felt sick.
“Dad, I was driving around Southridge today, and I saw the houses in Cedar Ridge Estates. They’re really nice.” I looked at him.
His movements stiffened.
“What were you doing over there?” His tone was tense.
“Just driving through.” I gave him a thin smile. “I heard a lot of artists live there. Must be a nice life.”
My father set his fork on the table with a sharp clink.
“Claire, I’ve noticed you’ve been getting more distracted lately.” His face darkened. “Spending all day digging into other people’s private lives. What exactly is going on in your head?”
“I was just making conversation. Why are you getting so defensive?”
“I’m trying to teach you some boundaries!” My father raised his voice. “Don’t invade other people’s privacy.”
My mother hurried to smooth things over.
“Enough. She just made a random comment. Why are you yelling?” Diane nudged his dinner plate toward him. “Eat your dinner. Take a breath.”
I watched my father pick up his fork, but he didn’t start eating.
His eyes gave him away.
