Claire always knew there was something off about Augustus; it was part of why she was so drawn to him. Being an heiress, people would always be showing their hands to her. There was no mystery in her life since she could remember. People would find out who she was and tell them every little thing about themselves in hopes of getting her money.

Sure, some people went about this more cleverly than others. More patiently, they would present themselves to her at a country club dinner, a tennis match, or a charity event as someone who came from new money. As those people would know, Claire knew all the old money heirs and heiresses as they were her social circle. They would make up these elaborate names, and back then, there was no internet, so she had no way of knowing if they were lying. Fabricate these false and always brief encounters they have claimed to have had with Claire at a previous country club dinner, tennis match, or charity event.

They would prey upon Claire exchanging polite hellos with hundreds of people at every event and using this information to get an "in" with her. The first few times this happened, her father was still alive but too busy to detect the deceit; she never saw him, and when she did, it was like seeing a ghost. Like he wasn't alive at all.

She pretended to remember meeting them and found a way to compliment their ridiculously lavish clothes in hopes of changing the subject. She'd invite them to lunch, then, if they could keep up the charade, she'd ask them to an opera. Most never made it past lunch because, at lunch, they had the heiress alone. A perfect opportunity to pitch a business idea to share with her father or a plea to pay for the family home they are about to lose.

Claire never had any true friends, sure she had the other snobs she grew up with, but they were just as phony as the vultures pretending to be one of them were. So when she met Augustus, it was like she could finally let her guard down.

He was a breath of fresh air. He didn't hide who he was. I mean, sure, all Claire knew was that he was a psychologist from a middle-class family somewhere out west. But it was nice to finally meet someone who wasn't pretending to be something they weren't. She couldn't believe a handsome and intelligent young man like him wasn't going steady with somebody. She couldn't believe that he wanted to date her, for her.

He had no idea who she was when they met. She was visiting her brother at Columbia, and that day she refused to wear what the maid had left out for her. Instead, she told the delivery boy to buy a plaid skirt and cream sweater off the mannequin from that hip store on the seventh. She had passed it the day before, saw three girls around her age, and envied their style.

She didn't take the family car that day; she insisted she walked. But her governess refused to let her leave without an escort, so she waited until her governess went to lunch for her escape. The delivery boy left the clothes in the upstairs dumbwaiter, just like she had instructed. She put on her disguise and headed toward Columbia. About thirty minutes into her walk, her legs grew tired, so she turned a corner and found an empty table at a quaint little coffee shop.

She had been sitting by herself for five minutes when the tall, lean young woman in the tweed jacket with piercing green eyes and slicked back raven dark hair sat across her. They hit it off immediately, discussing everything from philosophy to music and his field of study, psychology. They only didn't talk about their respective families and upbringings.

She was so taken with how much of a genuine intellectual he was. He talked about his work in psychology like Dr. Victor Frankenstien discussed his monster, and though it scared her, it also excited her tremendously. She had never met anyone like him, who genuinely had no interest in money. Knowledge was his money. She could listen to him talk about his research and theories for hours. Because she, too, understood the human condition the way a psychologist would. Her whole life has been one psychological experiment, seeing what lengths desperate people will go to for money.

. Augustus was everything she dreamed of, someone who understood her and, more importantly, wanted her for her. Claire Emerson wasn't the prettiest of girls; she knew that. Claire was very short, had broad shoulders, a prominent nose, and bushy eyebrows. She didn't look like the pinup girls, but he made her feel beautiful just by sitting across from her.

When he asked to call on her, she told him her strict father would disapprove, so instead, they arranged to meet at this cafe, same time and day, once a week. Then it became twice a week, and so forth. Then her brother died.

Claire told him she couldn't see him for quite some time. That's when he gave her the promise ring she hid in the hole of her childhood stuffed teddy bear, so she could look at it every night.

A year later, she wrote a letter to the address he gave her; he said it was the psychology lab address. To meet her at their coffee shop. He showed up with a bouquet full of chrysanthemums, her favorite flower. She decided then and there that she couldn't lie to him anymore. She told him everything, and he didn't bat an eye. His reaction was no reaction. At that moment, she knew she had to do everything she could to marry him, but her father would never approve. But then, he died too.

Augustus Haley was there for her through it all. Through the brutal reading of the will, several distant relatives try to abuse Claire's grief as an opportunity for themselves to make money. He was there for the grief. When Claire opened up to him that October afternoon, he told her about his family. How he was an only child of two loving dairy farmers. His father was enlisted in the war and died when he was eleven. And his mother died of pneumonia when he was 16.

She felt terrible that he was an orphan but loved him even more. He'd tell her the day of George Emerson's funeral while she was sobbing on her childhood bed; that's how he knew they were meant to be. He was perfect.

*****

July 16th, 1959, Emerson Estate, Martha's Vineyard.

Claire knew it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, but she was nervous, and he always could calm her down. So, she got up extra early that morning and snuck to the backhouse. She crept on the cobblestones barefoot so he couldn't hear her coming. She planned to kiss him awake before he had time to playfully scold her about the superstition. She crept from bush to bush, getting closer and closer to the front window of the backhouse. But as she got closer, she noticed a car in the driveway with New York plates.

Thanks to her late brother, Claire knew cars. The car was a '57 beat-up red Ford Thunderbird. She recognized the car but didn't recognize this specific car. No one was staying with Augustus; he had no family. She crawled on all floors, most likely ruining her silk blue pajamas; she didn't care. She made her way to the window sill, and that's when she heard the shouting.

"Nobody can know about this, you hear me?" Augustus yelled,

He was a soft-spoken man, she had never heard him shout like this before, and that horrible feeling she got from all those imposters crept up into her stomach.

"It's a done deal; if you give me the money, he'll go down for it. And you're good to go."

Said a man sitting at the coffee table. He was a large round man in a khaki-colored trench coat wearing a brown fedora. Claire didn't recognize him.

"Thanks, sergeant, seriously."

"As long as you are a friend to the NYPD, the NYPD will be a friend to you, understand?"

"Understand."

What has she gotten herself into? Who is she marrying? She screamed and immediately cupped her hands over her mouth to try to take it back.

"What was that?" asked an on-edge Augustus Haley.

The Police Captain shrugged, took his envelope and briefcase, and headed towards the door. Augustus started making his way toward the source of the scream. Getting closer and closer to the giant window on the opposite side of the kitchen. She immediately ducked down, but Claire's body began to pulsate, her joints began to twitch, her legs collapsed beneath her feet, and she fell face down onto the hard ground. And the world went dark