Chapter 7 - THE UNRAVELING OF DIANEThree days after the meeting at Vance Tower, the grand Halston family residence in the gated neighborhood of Oakridge was quiet.
The manicured lawns, the white marble pillars, and the stone fountain in the driveway stood under a gray, drizzling sky. The iron gates at the entrance were closed, but outside, two news vans were parked along the curb, their satellite dishes raised.
I stepped out of Lucas’s car wearing a dark trench coat, holding a leather briefcase containing the court-ordered asset inventory papers.
My mother, Diane, opened the heavy oak front door herself. She wasn't wearing her usual pristine makeup or designer clothes. She wore a simple silk housecoat, her hair pulled back into a messy knot, her eyes hollow and dark.
When she saw me standing on the porch, her lip began to tremble.
“Claire...” she whispered, her voice frail and high. “Are you here to take the house too?”
“I’m here to collect my grandmother’s personal belongings, Mom,” I said gently, stepping past her into the grand marble foyer.
The house smelled of stale wine and quiet decay. In the dining room, empty coffee cups and legal files covered the long mahogany table where we used to have quiet family dinners. Up the grand staircase, I could hear the faint sound of a television playing in Vanessa’s old bedroom.
Diane followed me into the small study near the back of the house—the room where my grandmother’s antique desk and oil paintings were kept.
“Your father was taken into custody this morning, Claire,” Diane said, sitting down heavily on the velvet sofa, holding a handkerchief in her trembling hands. “The federal marshals came to the office at nine o'clock. They put handcuffs on him in front of his staff.”
I didn't answer right away. I opened the desk drawers, carefully pulling out my grandmother’s silver-framed photographs and leather-bound journals.
“I know, Mom,” I said quietly. “Lucas received the notification from the DA’s office.”
“How can you be so cold?!” Diane suddenly burst out, her voice rising into a sob as she gripped her handkerchief tight. “He is your father! He loved you! He paid for your apartment! He made sure you had everything you needed!”
I stopped, turning around to face her, holding a silver photo frame containing a picture of my grandmother holding me as a baby.
“He paid for my apartment so I would stay twenty miles away from his country club friends, Mom,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “He gave me an allowance so I wouldn't go to the newspapers about the burns. And you... you watched him do it.”
Diane looked down at the rug, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. “I was trying to keep our family together, Claire. You don't know what it was like back then. If Arthur’s reputation had been ruined, we would have lost everything! The house, the social standing, the business!”
“You sacrificed one twin to save the other,” I said softly. “You decided that Vanessa was worth protecting, and I was just the damage that needed to be swept under the rug.”
“That’s not true!” Diane wept.
“It is true, Mom,” I said. “When I was lying in that hospital bed at seventeen, crying from the pain of the skin grafts, you didn't hold my hand. You stood in the hallway arguing with the doctor about whether the scars would show if I wore a bridesmaid dress at my cousin’s wedding.”
Diane froze, her mouth slightly open, the memory hitting her like a physical blow. She couldn't deny it because she knew every word was true.
I packed the last of my grandmother’s journals into my briefcase, closed the latch with a firm click, and looked down at my mother one last time.
May you like
“The court has issued an order freezing the joint accounts, Mom,” I told her gently. “Lucas has arranged for a small monthly stipend to cover your basic living expenses from Grandma’s trust. You won't be homeless. But the Oakridge house is being put up for auction next month.”
Diane sat on the sofa, weeping silently into her hands as I picked up my briefcase and walked out of the study, leaving the silent mansion behind.
