Two Weeks

"He made a choice that hurt me," Claire said.

Noah watched her.

"Did he say sorry?"

"Not for that."

"Then I don't want dinner with him."

"We aren't going."

He nodded, accepting the part he could use.

Claire tied his shoelace before standing. On the way to the hotel, he fell asleep with his forehead against the car window. She folded her cardigan between his cheek and the glass.

That night, she told Tessa about Eleanor.

"She actually said that in front of him?"

"Yes."

"I'll come tomorrow."

"You have work."

"And a lunch break. People have survived without me for forty minutes before."

Claire smiled despite herself.

The semifinal took place the following Wednesday. Six families competed for four places in Sunday's live final. By then, Claire had learned how to recognize the crew's anxious silence before someone delivered news nobody wanted to own.

She heard it before the scores appeared.

Ryan and Owen were out.

Ryan checked the board, then demanded to see the breakdown. Owen's withdrawal from the relay had reduced their task score. A later unfinished challenge had cost them more points.

"He was hurt," Ryan said. "You told me it wouldn't be held against him."

Daniel drew him aside. Their voices dropped, then rose again.

Claire took Noah to the dressing area rather than let him watch.

They were halfway through an apple when Ryan appeared at the door carrying Owen's jacket. His son stood close behind him, eyes swollen.

Ryan looked at Noah, then at Claire.

"Could I speak to you?"

She asked Maya to stay with Noah and stepped into the corridor. Owen remained within sight, sitting beside the open door.

Ryan took out his phone, then seemed to forget what he had intended to show her.

"I found a bruise. On the inside of his arm."

Claire said nothing.

"I asked him again. He said she told him if he told me, I'd stop getting work."

His voice broke on the final word. He looked away, furious with himself.

"You warned me."

"He needs you now," Claire said. "Start there."

Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.

"Did Noah really see it?"

"Yes. I reported what he told me to Rachel that day. There's a written record. I'll give your representative the details."

"Would he tell someone?"

Claire glanced at her son through the doorway. He was holding half an apple without eating it.

"If that's needed, we'll arrange it carefully. Not here, and not for the show."

Ryan nodded immediately.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For what I said to you."

She accepted the words with a small nod. It wasn't forgiveness, but she wasn't interested in making his son's afternoon worse.

When Ryan left, Noah came to the doorway.

"He knows now?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Then, after a pause, "Can Owen still have the blue dinosaur? I said he could borrow it before we knew who won."

Claire fetched it from the bag.

Noah ran after them with Maya, returning empty-handed and satisfied.

That evening, Mara called with an update. The anonymous source had identified himself privately to her and supplied production files through a documented transfer. She was checking their provenance and corresponding with production about Claire's complaint.

"Can they just keep posting things that aren't what happened?" Claire asked.

"I've requested a correction and review of the edits. We haven't received a substantive answer yet. I don't want you mistaking their delay for a conclusion."

"I don't."

But she was tired of waiting in rooms while other people discussed what had happened to her.

On Thursday, the official final announcement named Vivian as a guest judge.

Claire called Rachel immediately.

"After my complaint?"

"The decision came from above me. She won't have direct unsupervised contact."

"She'll be scoring him."

Rachel was quiet.

"Send me the scoring rules," Claire said. "The actual version used Sunday. And tell Daniel Mara will be contacting him again."

Afterward, Claire sat on the hotel bed with her phone in her hands.

Tessa, sitting on the carpet helping Noah sort puzzle pieces, looked up.

"You can still leave."

"I know."

Noah looked between them.

Claire put down the phone and joined him on the floor.

"Do you want to do the final?"

"The maze?"

"And the cooking. And the questions."

He fitted two pieces together.

"Will you be there?"

"The whole time."

"Then yes."

She told him he could change his mind. He told her she had already said that, then asked for the piece with half a tower on it.

They finished the castle before dinner. Noah made Tessa take a picture, then insisted Claire be in it too.

"I'm holding the phone," Tessa said.

"It has a timer."

She propped it against a water bottle. In the photograph, the bottle obscured half the castle, Tessa was laughing, and Noah was trying to explain why they needed another attempt.

Claire kept that one.

When she looked at it later, she noticed her hand resting on his back. She couldn't remember putting it there. He had leaned into it without looking, as naturally as breathing.

Later, Claire spoke to Mara again. She wanted an answer ready if the final repeated the false claims. Not a rumor posted in the middle of the night, not an argument built from strangers' comments. The complete task footage, the recording, and the production correspondence, checked and held together.

"I want them to correct it where they told the lie," she said.

Mara didn't promise that a live program would cooperate. She did agree they could prepare a clear, verified account and demand a response.

On Friday evening, Adrian came to the hotel alone.

Claire opened the door only as far as the security latch allowed.

"My attorney asked you not to arrive unannounced."

"I know. I'll stay out here."

He held an envelope.

"I've instructed counsel not to push for immediate testing. This confirms it. Your attorney has a copy."

She didn't reach for it.

"Why?"

He looked more tired than he had in the studio. She refused to make that matter.

"Ethan brought me some information about Vivian's involvement with the editing. I've been reviewing it."

"I reported what happened to Noah the day it happened."

"It didn't reach me that way."

"That's a problem with your people, Adrian. Not with how loudly I asked."

He accepted that without replying.

"I also had him reopen the old file. From three years ago."

Claire's hand tightened on the door.

"And?"

"The released video wasn't a fair account of what happened. There are omissions. Material ones."

She stared at him through the narrow gap.

"How long did that take?"

"We're still establishing the full sequence."

"How long have you been looking?"

He hesitated.

"Two weeks."

She felt the old humiliation rise so suddenly that it made her cold.

"You found enough to doubt her in two weeks."

"Claire—"

"I spent three years trying to live with what you decided in an afternoon."

He lowered the envelope.

Behind Claire, Noah turned in his sleep. She looked back automatically. When she faced Adrian again, something in his expression had changed.

"Sunday will be fair," he said. "I've told production no one is to interfere with his result."

"Then ask why she's still judging him."

"The network signed the appearance agreement. I'm addressing it."

Claire was tired of the space between what he could stop when he wanted to and what suddenly required discussion.

"Noah doesn't need a favor from you to earn his score."

"That's not what I'm offering."

"Then don't call fairness something you're giving us."

She closed the door. A moment later, paper slid beneath it.

Claire left the envelope on the carpet until Noah woke and asked for water.