Adrian was waiting.

Naomi had advised him not to discuss the financial evidence.

So he asked only about Jonah.

“Why did you tell him he might be sent away?”

Celeste removed her coat.

“I didn’t.”

“He remembers photographs of Hawthorne Ridge.”

She paused.

Then recovered.

“I researched options.”

“For what?”

“Support.”

“Residential support?”

“Potentially.”

“Without discussing it with me?”

“I intended to.”

“When?”

“When you were ready to listen.”

Adrian almost laughed.

Celeste walked toward the kitchen.

“I can already see what’s happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’ve decided I’m evil.”

“I’ve decided I don’t know you.”

She turned.

“Because I moved food from one plate?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Adrian kept his face still.

“I’m asking about Jonah.”

“So am I.”

She lowered her voice.

“He is getting older.”

“Yes.”

“He needs structure.”

“He has structure.”

“He needs professional help.”

“With what?”

“Behavior.”

“What behavior?”

Celeste stared at him.

“You don’t see it.”

“Then tell me.”

“He becomes possessive.”

“Of what?”

“Food. Poppy. Attention.”

Adrian remembered the forged notes.

“Has he hurt Poppy?”

“Not exactly.”

“Has he threatened her?”

“No.”

“Has he hit Milo?”

“No.”

“Thrown food?”

Celeste hesitated.

“Sometimes.”

“When?”

“You want dates?”

“Yes.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Then give me one example.”

She could not.

Adrian watched her.

A story required repetition to become believable.

Celeste had built one around Jonah.

Difficult.

Expensive.

Possessive.

Unsafe.

The labels were vague enough that people could fill in the details themselves.

And Adrian had almost allowed it.

Celeste crossed her arms.

“Why are you interrogating me?”

“Because my son thinks he is going to be removed from his home.”

“He is dramatic.”

“He is scared.”

“Children get scared.”

“Not like this.”

She shook her head.

“You’re overcorrecting because you feel guilty.”

There it was again.

His guilt.

Her most reliable weapon.

“You work too much.”

True.

“You missed things.”

True.

“You left me to manage the house.”

True.

Therefore, according to Celeste, everything else must also be true.

Adrian stepped closer.

“You’re right about one thing.”

She waited.

“I missed things.”

Her face softened slightly.

“I know.”

“I trusted you.”

The softness vanished.

Adrian continued.

“That was my mistake. But Jonah is not going to pay for it.”

Celeste’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen.

Marla.

She declined the call.

Adrian noticed.

Celeste noticed him noticing.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She went upstairs.

At 11:30, Adrian heard the shower running.

He went downstairs for water.

Celeste’s handbag sat on the counter.

He did not touch it.

Instead he noticed a receipt lying beside it.

A self-storage facility.

Unit 214.

Paid three months in advance.

He photographed it.

The next morning he gave the image to Naomi.

“Do not go there,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because if it’s leased to Celeste, entering without permission creates problems.”

“So what do we do?”

“Let the financial investigators follow the evidence.”

Adrian hated waiting.

But he listened.

Two days later, the trust company’s fraud investigator contacted him.

“We interviewed BrightPath’s registered owner.”

“Marla?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“I can’t disclose everything yet.”

“Anything?”

The investigator paused.

“She claims Mrs. Hale prepared the service notes.”

Adrian closed his eyes.

“And the money?”

“She claims she retained an administrative fee and returned the rest.”

“To Celeste?”

“She did not answer directly.”

Adrian looked at Jonah in Claire’s backyard, helping Poppy push a toy stroller.

“Was Jonah ever a BrightPath client?”

“No.”

That single word settled something.

Celeste had not merely exaggerated.

She had built an entire fictional version of Jonah on paper.

A boy who needed services.

A boy who had behaviors.

A boy who might need residential placement.

A boy whose money could be accessed because he supposedly required help.

The real Jonah was outside tying Poppy’s shoelace.

Adrian watched him bend carefully, concentrating on the knot.

Then his phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

You don’t know me. My name is Daniel Mercer. I think your wife has been using my son’s name on BrightPath paperwork too. We need to talk.

Adrian read it twice.

Celeste’s plan was no longer only about Jonah.