Claire wanted to scream. She wanted to break her cousin’s calm, collected face. How could Denise stand there, looking so hurt, when she had been complicit in keeping Claire from her own children for years?
But the words wouldn’t come. The anger was too sharp, too raw, and Claire didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she glanced at Ethan. He was standing there, arms crossed, his face pale as he processed the weight of it all.
“I know you never meant to hurt me, Denise,” Ethan said quietly, his voice hoarse. “But you did. You took them from us. You knew something was wrong, and you didn’t tell us. You let us grieve, let us believe the worst. And I can’t forgive that.”
Denise’s face faltered, a crack in her composure appearing as her eyes welled with tears. But she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, eyes locked with Ethan’s, as if waiting for something.
“It’s not just you, Denise,” Claire finally said, her voice a little steadier, though the words still came out like jagged pieces of glass. “It’s everything. The lies. The silence. The fact that I lost my daughters and didn’t even know they were alive. You can’t just apologize and expect it to be okay.”
“I know,” Denise said, her voice tight. “I know it’s not okay. But…”
“But nothing,” Claire snapped, her anger finally spilling out in a burst. “You’ve been a part of this, too. You let them raise my children without even telling me. I’ve been fighting to get them back, to prove they were mine. And all along, you were part of this mess, watching from the sidelines. I want to know how much you knew, Denise. How much you lied to me.”
Denise opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She closed it again, her face stricken. Claire didn’t wait for an answer. She turned back to the girls, trying to focus on them, trying to forget about Denise for a moment.
But the tension in the room was unbearable.
