Chapter 3 - The Unraveling of Claire’s Ex
Living at Grandpa’s house over the next two weeks felt like stepping into an alternate reality. The guest room had a real bed, a large window that let in the morning sun, and no sound of children screaming at 6:00 AM while their mother slept in.
However, the war had only just begun.
My phone was a warzone of missed calls and angry text messages. Most were from Dad, demanding that I "fix this" with Grandpa before the end of the month. But on a rainy Tuesday evening, a message popped up on my screen from an unknown number:
Ethan, it’s Marcus. We need to talk about your sister. Meet me at the diner on 5th Street.
Marcus. Claire’s ex-husband. The deadbeat who drifted in and out of her life, leaving behind unpaid bills, broken promises, and two confused kids.
I showed the text to Grandpa over dinner.
"Go," Grandpa said immediately. "See what he wants. Knowledge is ammunition, Ethan."
An hour later, I was sitting across from Marcus in a dim, grease-stained booth at the local diner. Marcus looked rough—his leather jacket was worn at the elbows, and he had dark circles under his sunken eyes.
"Thanks for coming," Marcus said, sliding a cup of black coffee between his hands.
"Make it quick, Marcus," I said coldly. "I don't have time for games."
Marcus chuckled bitterly. "Look, man, I know you think I’m the bad guy in all this. And yeah, I made mistakes. But I just heard what happened at Thanksgiving. Claire called me screaming, saying your granddad is kicking her out."
"He gave her sixty days to get a job," I corrected. "Which is sixty days more than she deserves."
Marcus leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "Ethan... do you know why your parents really needed your eight hundred dollars every month?"
I frowned. "To pay for utilities and house expenses."
Marcus laughed out loud—a harsh, barking sound that made the waitress look over. "Utilities? Man, your parents' mortgage was paid off twenty years ago! Your granddad paid it off for them as a wedding gift!"
My blood went cold. "What?"
"Your dad doesn't have a mortgage, Ethan," Marcus smirked, though his eyes lacked any humor. "The money you gave them wasn't going to the electric company. It was going directly to Claire. And through Claire... it was coming to me."
The restaurant seemed to tilt on its axis. "What are you talking about?"
"Claire has been paying my gambling debts for three years," Marcus confessed, slamming his hand lightly on the table. "I got tied up with some nasty guys in Atlantic City back in 2023. They threatened to come to the house. Claire freaked out. She begged your dad for help. Your dad didn't have liquid cash, so he made up the 'rent' rule for you. Every single check you wrote to your father was deposited, transferred to Claire, and wired to a bookie in New Jersey."
The piece of pie sitting in front of me suddenly smelled nauseating.
My hard-earned money—the money I earned doing overtime shifts, the money that kept me from buying a decent suit or saving for a deposit on an apartment—was used to pay off a deadbeat's gambling debts to mobsters.
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"Why are you telling me this now, Marcus?" I asked, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of the table.
"Because the debt is cleared as of last month," Marcus said, leaning back. "And now Claire wants me back. She wants us to live together in your granddad’s house once she forces your dad to sign it over. But I found out your granddad actually owns the deed. Claire is crazy, Ethan. She’s using those kids as shields, and your parents are enabling her to ruin everyone’s lives. Get out while you can."
