Chapter 13 - The Birthday PartyThree days later, Brooke hosted another party.
She shouldn't have.
But people like Brooke rarely know when a story is over.
She called it a charity brunch.
The guest list included developers, investors, journalists, influencers, and nearly everyone who had attended my mother's birthday event that morning.
The irony was almost perfect.
She wanted an audience.
So did I.
Arthur told me not to go.
I went anyway.
When I entered the ballroom, Brooke was onstage.
She wore white.
Of course she did.
Beside her stood Elliot Vane.
Daniel wasn't there.
That was my first surprise.
My second was the screen behind them.
A rendering of my house.
Modernized.
Expanded.
Demolished.
Rebuilt.
The old oak trees were gone.
The porch was gone.
The staircase was gone.
My home had become an architectural concept.
Brooke lifted her microphone.
“Today is about new beginnings.”
I nearly laughed.
She saw me.
Her face froze.
The room slowly turned.
Whispers spread.
She stepped away from the microphone.
“You weren't invited.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
I smiled.
“You told me that before.”
Guests looked uncomfortable.
Chelsea stood near the back.
She met my eyes.
Then nodded.
The signal.
Arthur was already outside with investigators.
I walked to the front.
“Ladies and gentlemen.”
Brooke grabbed my arm.
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
She hissed:
“You're embarrassing yourself.”
“No.”
I looked at the screen.
“You did that beautifully this morning.”
She went pale.
“What are you talking about?”
“The black trash bag.”
People murmured.
Chelsea lifted her phone.
Then connected it to the ballroom system.
The first recording played.
Brooke's voice filled the room.
The house doesn't matter. The land does.
Everyone went silent.
Brooke lunged for the controls.
Chelsea blocked her.
Another clip played.
Linda will either cry or yell. If she yells, Daniel will panic.
A guest whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Brooke looked at me.
“You can't prove context.”
I raised a folder.
“No.”
I raised another.
“But these can.”
Arthur entered the room.
Behind him were two investigators.
The entire atmosphere changed.
Elliot stepped backward.
One investigator approached him.
“Mr. Vane.”
Elliot froze.
“We need to speak with you.”
Brooke turned toward him.
“Elliot?”
He looked away.
And that was the moment she understood.
He wasn't standing beside her anymore.
He was standing beside himself.
Trying to survive.
I placed the forged assignment on the table.
“This signature is not my husband's.”
An investigator examined it.
“We've already sent it to a forensic examiner.”
Brooke looked at me.
“You have no right.”
I smiled.
“You said that about my KitchenAid.”
A few people laughed nervously.
She glared.
“This is harassment.”
“No.”
I pointed toward the screen.
“This is evidence.”
The pharmacy footage appeared.
Brooke entering.
Brooke speaking to the pharmacist.
Brooke leaving with Harold's medication.
Her face drained of color.
Daniel walked into the room.
Everyone turned.
Brooke stared at him.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at the screen.
“Because I'm done being afraid.”
She shook her head.
“You don't know what she's done.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“I know what you did.”
Brooke backed away.
“I did everything for this family.”
“No.”
He held up the DNA report.
“You did everything for yourself.”
She stared at the paper.
Then laughed.
“You want the truth?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Your mother already knows.”
I felt a chill.
“Knows what?”
Brooke stepped toward Daniel.
“Ask her who his biological father was.”
Daniel froze.
The ballroom went silent.
I looked at Arthur.
He shook his head.
“Brooke,” I said, “stop using a question you don't know the answer to.”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“The DNA test was inconclusive.”
She blinked.
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
Daniel looked at Brooke.
“You lied about that too.”
She suddenly laughed.
Not because she was amused.
Because she was cornered.
“I don't care.”
Then she pulled a folded document from her purse.
“I have something your husband signed.”
Arthur's face changed.
“Put that away.”
Brooke unfolded it.
A transfer agreement.
The property.
The company.
The mineral rights.
All transferred.
To Daniel.
Daniel stared.
“My signature.”
“Yes.”
Arthur examined it.
Then smiled.
Brooke's expression shifted.
“What?”
He pointed to the page.
“This document is dated three months after Harold's death.”
“Yes.”
“And notarized two weeks before that.”
She said nothing.
Arthur looked at me.
“You never signed this.”
“No.”
He looked at the investigator.
“And the notary seal?”
The investigator leaned closer.
“Fake.”
Brooke's face collapsed.
“No.”
Arthur continued.
“And the notary listed here died four years ago.”
The room erupted.
Brooke stepped backward.
Elliot walked away.
One investigator followed him.
Daniel stared at Brooke.
“How many lies?”
She whispered:
“Enough.”
Then Chelsea said quietly:
“There is one recording left.”
Brooke looked at her.
Chelsea pressed play.
It was the car recording.
Brooke.
Elliot.
Robert.
Then a final voice.
Mine.
I wasn't there.
But my voice was.
A recording edited from an old voicemail.
Brooke had manipulated it to make it sound like I was agreeing to the sale.
I stared at the speakers.
Then at her.
And finally, I understood the whole plan.
They hadn't needed me to sign.
They only needed to make everyone believe I had.
The investigators moved toward Brooke.
She looked at me one final time.
“You think this ends today?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I looked at Daniel.
“It ends when every lie is exposed.”
Then Brooke whispered:
“You haven't found the last file.”
I stared at her.
“What file?”
May you like
Her smile returned.
“Harold's final will.”
