Chapter 8 - The Second RecordingNo one spoke.
Chelsea's hand shook around her phone.
Daniel looked at me.
“She's lying.”
Chelsea's eyes filled with tears.
“I'm not.”
“You were with Brooke all morning.”
“I know.”
“You've been recording people without telling them.”
“Yes.”
“So why should we trust you?”
“Because I was scared.”
I understood that sentence more than I wanted to.
Fear made people weak.
Fear also made people confess.
Chelsea unlocked her phone.
“I started recording because Brooke asked me to.”
“Why?”
“She wanted the eviction to look spontaneous.”
Daniel's face tightened.
“She planned the humiliation.”
Chelsea nodded.
“She told us exactly what to do.”
“Why record it?”
“She wanted content.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
“She was going to post it.”
I stared.
“You were supposed to film me crying.”
Chelsea looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said it would make a great story.”
I closed my eyes.
A mother's humiliation had become social-media entertainment.
But Chelsea wasn't finished.
“She also wanted something else.”
“What?”
“A reaction.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Daniel.
“She said if your mother became angry, you'd finally choose Brooke in public.”
I laughed quietly.
“So this morning was staged.”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
Chelsea nodded.
“The trash bag was real.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then what wasn't?”
She turned the phone toward me.
An audio recording loaded.
Brooke's voice.
Linda will either cry or yell. If she yells, Daniel will panic. If she cries, he'll comfort her. Either way, he'll eventually sign.
Daniel stared at the screen.
The audio continued.
The house doesn't matter. The land does.
Another voice.
Elliot Vane.
And the company?
Brooke replied.
Once Linda signs, Daniel gets the controlling interest. He'll transfer it to us after the sale.
Daniel stood frozen.
“I would never do that.”
Chelsea looked at him.
“She didn't trust you to choose.”
The recording continued.
He doesn't need to know everything. He only needs to believe this saves his family.
I looked at Daniel.
He couldn't speak.
Chelsea stopped the audio.
“There is more.”
She opened another folder.
This recording had been made inside Brooke's car.
Brooke was talking to Elliot.
The date was one month before Harold died.
What about Harold?
Elliot asked.
Brooke answered:
He was difficult, but he's gone now.
The words were casual.
Too casual.
I felt something inside me freeze.
Daniel covered his mouth.
Chelsea whispered:
“I didn't make this recording. Brooke did.”
“Why?”
“She recorded almost everything.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“To protect herself.”
Then Chelsea played another clip.
Brooke's voice again.
If anything happens, I want proof that I was never alone.
Elliot replied:
Nothing is going to happen.
Brooke laughed.
You don't know Harold.
I stopped breathing.
That sentence sounded different from the others.
Fear.
Real fear.
Brooke had been afraid of Harold.
Not because he could hurt her.
Because he knew what she was doing.
Arthur leaned forward.
“Chelsea, what happened the night Harold died?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Tell us what you know.”
She nodded.
“Brooke called me.”
“When?”
“Two hours before the hospital called.”
“What did she say?”
Chelsea looked at me.
“She asked whether I had seen Daniel.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She said Daniel had disappeared.”
“Where was he?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
“I remember going to my father's office.”
“When?”
“That night.”
“Why?”
“To talk to him.”
“About what?”
Daniel looked down.
“Brooke.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“I argued with Dad.”
“About the money?”
Daniel nodded.
“He told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I couldn't lose Brooke.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I asked:
“Did you leave him alive?”
Daniel looked up sharply.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Around ten.”
“What happened after?”
“I went home.”
“Did Brooke know you went to the office?”
“Yes.”
Chelsea interrupted.
“She was waiting for him.”
We turned.
“Who?”
“Brooke.”
Daniel stared.
“She wasn't home.”
Chelsea nodded.
“She told me she was.”
I felt cold.
“Where was she?”
Chelsea looked down at her phone.
“I have the location history.”
She opened it.
One pin appeared.
Harold's office.
The timestamp was 10:41 p.m.
I looked at Daniel.
“You said you left at ten.”
“I did.”
Chelsea nodded.
“Brooke arrived forty-one minutes later.”
Arthur took the phone.
“Was she alone?”
Chelsea shook her head.
“No.”
He zoomed in.
A second location point.
Near the back entrance.
A vehicle.
A black SUV.
I knew that vehicle.
Not the driver.
The vehicle.
Elliot Vane's.
Daniel whispered:
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He pointed at the screen.
“That car.”
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“Whose is it?”
He swallowed.
“Brooke's father.”
Nobody moved.
I stared at him.
“Her father?”
“Yes.”
Brooke had never mentioned him.
Not once.
She said he was dead.
She said they hadn't spoken in years.
Yet the car had been at Harold's office the night he died.
Arthur looked at Chelsea.
“Did you know this?”
“No.”
“Then why did Brooke record it?”
Chelsea stared.
“I don't know.”
I took the phone from Arthur.
The final file was unopened.
No label.
Just a date.
The night Harold died.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then footsteps.
A door.
Harold's voice.
You shouldn't be here.
Brooke's voice.
You knew I'd come.
Harold answered:
I knew someone would.
The recording crackled.
Then another voice entered.
A man's voice.
Deep.
Familiar.
Daniel went completely still.
I looked at him.
“Who is that?”
Daniel's lips parted.
“No.”
“Daniel.”
He shook his head.
“That can't be.”
The voice said:
Mr. Bennett, you left my daughter no choice.
May you like
Daniel whispered:
“My grandfather.”
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