Chapter 7
The video wasn't enough to prove murder.
Agent Carter made that very clear.
A hallway camera could show who entered.
It couldn't show what happened inside.
But it destroyed my mother's story.
She had told police she was already back at her hotel before midnight.
She had given them a receipt from the hotel bar.
Apparently someone bought a drink using her room number at 12:10.
Now investigators knew that person wasn't her.
The former Carlton employee was named Thomas Vega.
He had been working overnight security when Emily died.
He told police he copied the hallway footage because something about the case bothered him.
Then his supervisor ordered the footage “archived” and later told him it was corrupted.
Thomas kept a copy.
For eleven months, he said nothing.
“Why now?” I asked.
Agent Carter answered.
“Because he saw a clip from your husband's company party online.”
Of course.
People had posted it.
Michael slapping me.
David showing me the photograph.
Lauren's tracker falling onto the carpet.
The scandal was already spreading.
The perfect executive had become a public spectacle overnight.
“Thomas recognized Michael,” Carter said.
“He saw him that night?”
“Yes.”
The video showed Michael entering Emily's room at 11:56.
Four minutes after Mom.
Lauren appeared in the hallway at 12:03.
She never entered.
At 12:25, Michael came out.
He paced.
Went back inside.
At 12:33, Mom left.
At 12:36, Michael left.
Then Lauren followed them downstairs.
Emily was found moments later.
I wanted to see the video.
The agents refused.
Not yet.
At six that evening, my mother called Maria.
Not me.
Maria put the call on speaker after warning her it might be recorded.
Mom's voice sounded fragile.
“Sarah, sweetheart, please talk to me.”
My entire body trembled.
I didn't answer.
“I know you're listening.”
I stared at the phone.
“Please. You have heard terrible things.”
Finally I spoke.
“Were you in Emily's room when she died?”
Silence.
Then a sob.
“Yes.”
David closed his eyes.
Lauren sat across the room beside the attorney Maria had found for her.
My mother continued.
“But not the way they're saying.”
“What way are they saying?”
“That I hurt her.”
“Did you?”
“No!”
Her voice cracked.
“I loved Emily.”
“You told her I didn't want anything to do with her.”
“That isn't what happened.”
“It was in her notebook.”
“Emily misunderstood.”
“She called me three times.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From her chaos.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She found out you were stealing from Dad.”
Silence.
“Sarah—”
“She found out you arranged for Michael to meet me.”
Another silence.
Longer.
“Please let me explain.”
“Explain.”
She inhaled shakily.
“Your father left a mess.”
“He left me three million dollars.”
“It wasn't that simple.”
“You told me four hundred thousand.”
“There were liabilities.”
“Then show me.”
“I can.”
“Did you give Michael access to my trust?”
“I introduced you to someone I thought could give you stability.”
“You recruited him.”
“No.”
“I read the emails.”
My mother's breathing changed.
That was the moment she realized I had everything.
“What emails?”
“The ones where you told him I hated aggressive men.”
Nothing.
“The ones where you told him to wait until after the wedding before putting financial papers in front of me.”
“Sarah.”
“The one where Michael said fertility treatments would distract me.”
She started crying.
I didn't care.
“Did you know he had another family?”
“No.”
I looked at Lauren.
She slowly nodded.
Yes.
Mom had known.
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
“Did you push Emily?”
“No!”
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
“What happened on that balcony?”
“She went outside.”
“Why?”
“She was upset.”
“Who followed her?”
“I did.”
My nails dug into my palm.
“What happened?”
“We argued.”
“About the drive?”
“Yes.”
“And my money?”
“Yes.”
“And Michael?”
“Yes.”
“What did Emily say?”
Mom's voice softened.
“She said she was going to destroy all of us.”
I felt no sympathy.
“And then?”
“She climbed onto the balcony ledge.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
“She was hysterical.”
“No.”
“She threatened to jump.”
“You told police you weren't even there.”
“I panicked.”
“You're still lying.”
“Sarah, please.”
“Did Michael touch her?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
Silence.
My chest tightened.
“Mom.”
“She was slipping.”
I stood.
Everyone in the room watched me.
“What does that mean?”
“She stepped backward. Her heel went over the edge.”
“You said she climbed onto the ledge.”
“I—”
“You just changed your story.”
“She was moving around!”
“What did you do?”
“I grabbed her.”
“Where?”
“Her arm.”
“Then why did she fall?”
Mom began sobbing so hard she couldn't speak.
I waited.
Finally she whispered, “She hit me.”
I went cold.
“And?”
“I reacted.”
The room disappeared.
“What did you do?”
“I pushed her away.”
There it was.
Not a confession to murder.
But something.
“How hard?”
“I don't know.”
“Hard enough for her to go over the balcony?”
“I didn't mean—”
I dropped into the chair.
Nobody moved.
Mom was crying through the speaker.
“I reached for her.”
I couldn't speak.
“I swear to God, Sarah. I reached for her. Michael grabbed me because he thought I would fall too.”
I looked at Agent Carter.
Her expression remained controlled.
“Then why didn't you tell police?”
“Because Michael said nobody would believe it was an accident.”
Of course.
Michael.
Always arranging the story.
“He said I would be arrested.”
“So you let everyone believe Emily killed herself?”
“No. They said it was an accident.”
“You let me believe you knew nothing.”
“I was terrified.”
“You watched me bury her.”
Mom screamed, “I lost my daughter too!”
I stood.
“No.”
My voice was calm now.
“You lost your daughter when you chose money over her.”
I ended the call.
My legs shook.
Maria caught my shoulder.
Agent Carter immediately stepped away to make calls.
Lauren stared at the floor.
David looked twenty years older.
I went into the bathroom and vomited.
When I returned, Agent Carter was waiting.
“Your mother has agreed to come in with counsel.”
“She admitted pushing Emily.”
“She admitted contact during an argument. We still need evidence regarding intent and exact circumstances.”
“She's going to say accident.”
“Probably.”
“Will she get away with it?”
“I can't answer that.”
I hated those words.
But I understood.
Cases weren't built from grief.
They were built from evidence.
Then Lauren cleared her throat.
“There is something else.”
We all turned.
She had stopped crying.
Her hands were folded tightly.
“The night Emily died, Michael didn't just protect Linda.”
My stomach knotted.
“What did he do?”
“He went back upstairs after police arrived.”
Agent Ruiz frowned.
“That doesn't appear on the hallway footage.”
“He used the service elevator.”
David stared at her.
“Why?”
Lauren looked at me.
“To get Emily's phone.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“He said there might be recordings.”
“Did he find it?”
“Yes.”
“But police returned her phone to us.”
Lauren nodded.
“Not the same phone.”
I remembered Michael cleaning Emily's apartment.
The missing evidence.
The replaced device.
“He switched it?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“A duplicate. Same model. He copied enough of her data to make it look real.”
Agent Carter's face sharpened.
“Where is the original?”
Lauren hesitated.
“Michael kept it.”
“Where?”
“I don't know now.”
“Where did he keep it then?”
“In his office safe.”
I stood.
His office.
The company headquarters.
Back home.
A thousand miles away.
I looked at David.
He understood immediately.
But Agent Carter said, “Nobody is going anywhere near that office.”
“I didn't say we were.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Yes.”
“Don't.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
Michael standing outside my mother's house.
Timestamped twenty minutes earlier.
Below it:
THEY KNOW LAUREN TALKED.
May you like
Then another message.
THIS ENDS TONIGHT.
