Chapter 2: The Conversation That Exposed Her
“Turn it off,” Brittany said.
Her voice was suddenly calm.
Too calm for a woman who had just claimed to be the victim of an assault.
Daniel didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on the screen as the earlier recording played.
Brittany was sitting comfortably on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, holding a cup of coffee I had made for her that morning.
She glanced toward the hallway before lowering her voice.
“Once Daniel thinks his father attacked me, he'll do anything I say.””
A woman's voice answered through the phone speaker, too faint to make out clearly.
Brittany laughed.
“And when the old man is out of the house, we can finally get access to the documents.””
Daniel's face drained of color.
“What documents?”” he asked.
Brittany lunged toward my phone.
I pulled it away.
“Don't touch that!””
“Give it to me!”” she snapped.
“You can't record private conversations without permission!””
“It's my living room,” I replied.
“And my security camera.””
“You had no right!””
Daniel finally looked at her.
“Brittany, what documents is he talking about?””
She swallowed.
“I don't know. He probably edited that video.””
I almost laughed, but the movement pulled at my injured lip.
“Edited it? You think I have the energy to manufacture a recording of you sitting on my couch?””
“You've always hated me!”” she shouted.
“No,” I said.
“I simply refused to give you my house.””
That struck a nerve.
Her face hardened, and for a moment, the frightened woman disappeared entirely.
“You're an old man with no idea what he needs anymore,” she said.
“Daniel deserves a future. He shouldn't have to wait until you're dead to have something of his own.””
Daniel took a step backward.
“Brittany, stop talking.””
But she was already unraveling.
“He's your father! He should want you to have this house!””
I wiped blood from my chin.
“Wanting my son to have a future is one thing. Being forced to surrender my home while I'm still alive is another.””
Daniel stared at the folder on the coffee table.
He picked it up and flipped through the pages.
His hands began to shake.
“Is this a property transfer?”” he asked.
Brittany straightened her blouse as best she could.
“It's just paperwork.””
“You told me it was a plan for Dad's retirement.””
“It is.””
Daniel turned another page.
“Why does it say I'm receiving full ownership?””
“Because that's what we discussed!””
“No, it isn't.””
The words came out of his mouth so quietly that I almost missed them.
For the first time that afternoon, my son seemed to remember that he had a brain of his own.
I lowered myself into the armchair, wincing as pain spread through my ribs.
“Keep watching,” I told him.
The recording continued.
Brittany leaned closer to the phone in the video.
“Don't worry, sweetheart. Daniel still doesn't know the truth about the baby... or who you really are.””
Daniel stopped breathing for a moment.
“What baby?””
Brittany stared at the screen as if she could force the image to disappear.
The recording continued.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
“Has the old man signed the papers yet?””
I froze.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it at family dinners, birthday parties, and once in the hospital corridor when my wife was dying.
Daniel recognized it, too.
He dropped my phone.
It struck the carpet, bounced once, and landed faceup.
“No,” Daniel whispered.
“No. That can't be him.””
Brittany rushed toward the device.
Daniel caught her wrist.
“Who is that?””
“Let go of me!””
“WHO IS IT?””
She twisted free and backed toward the front door.
I watched her carefully.
The man on the recording spoke again.
“Listen to me. If he refuses to sign, we need another way to make him leave. Once he's out, the rest becomes much easier.””
Daniel looked as if someone had pulled the floor out from beneath him.
I bent down and retrieved my phone.
The recording had captured the man's voice clearly enough, but the camera's microphone had not picked up every word from Brittany's side of the call.
I replayed the last few seconds.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“Son, you know who that is.””
He shook his head violently.
“It's impossible.””
Brittany seized the opportunity.
“Daniel, please. Your father is manipulating you. He's been trying to turn you against me since we moved in.””
I said nothing.
I didn't need to.
The video was still playing.
The man's voice came through one final time.
“Tell Daniel whatever you need to tell him. But don't let him find out that the child isn't his.””
Daniel went completely still.
Brittany covered her mouth.
I felt the room grow colder.
My son slowly turned toward his wife.
“What child?””
She shook her head.
“Daniel, I can explain.””
“How long have you known?””
“It's not what you think.””
“Then tell me what it is!””
She began to cry again, but the tears looked different now. They came without the theatrical gasps, without the careful glances to see who was watching.
For the first time, she looked genuinely afraid.
Daniel took another step toward her.
“Brittany, are you pregnant?””
She said nothing.
He looked at her stomach, then back at her face.
“You told me we were going to have a baby.””
Her lips trembled.
“I wanted us to have a family.””
“That's not an answer!””
I raised one hand.
“Daniel, sit down.””
He turned toward me, his eyes shining.
“Dad, I didn't know.””
I believed that he hadn't known about the conversation.
But I couldn't forget the way he had struck me without asking a single question.
“Knowing the truth now doesn't change what you did to me,” I said.
His shoulders sank.
“I know.””
Then the front door rattled.
Someone was trying to unlock it from outside.
May you like
Brittany's head snapped toward the entrance.
And when the door opened, the man who stepped inside was the last person either of us expected to see.
