Ryan scoffed. “So she ran to you for money? Cute.” He turned to me, face flushing. “You’re seriously involving him? After I told you I could handle it?”
I stared at him. “You didn’t offer to handle it. You blamed me.”
Ryan stepped closer, anger rising. “You always make me the bad guy. You always—”
Ethan cut him off, firm now. “Back up.”
Ryan’s eyes flashed. “Or what?”
I inhaled, heart pounding, then said the words that changed everything.
“I didn’t text you for money, Ryan. I texted you for truth.” I pulled the lottery ticket from my wallet—still folded like a secret—and held it up between us. “And I just found it.”
Ryan froze. Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. Ryan’s voice cracked. “That’s—Claire, is that real?”
I met his stunned face and whispered, “Now tell me who you are—before I decide what you get.”
Ryan’s mouth opened and closed like he couldn’t find air. His eyes locked on the ticket as if money had a gravitational pull. Then his expression snapped into something sweeter—too sweet.
“Baby,” he said softly, stepping forward with his hands raised, “why would you hide that from me? I’m your husband.”
Ethan didn’t move, but his presence was a wall. “She asked for help,” he said. “You told her to figure it out.”
Ryan ignored him, focusing on me like Ethan didn’t exist. “Claire, I was stressed. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” He swallowed and tried again, voice trembling with a rehearsed sincerity. “We’ve been through so much. This could fix everything.”
I pictured my mom’s sigh. Derek’s laughter. Megan’s emoji. Ryan tracking my location like I was property. And then I pictured Ethan’s first message: Tell me where you are. I’m coming.
