Chapter 2: The Woman Who Wanted My Family Gone
The second recording had been captured inside my father's study three nights earlier.
I knew the room well. It smelled of leather, old books, and the expensive cedar polish James used on the mahogany desk. My father spent most evenings there reviewing contracts for Carter Development, the real estate company he'd built from a single construction loan into a multimillion-dollar business.
The study was supposed to be private.
Only my father, his attorney, and James had access to the room.
Yet there was Denise, standing beside the desk with a phone pressed to her ear.
James increased the volume.
"The Carter family trust is almost under my control," Denise whispered.
"I just need Richard to sign the remaining documents.""
A man's voice crackled through the speaker.
"And the daughter?""
Denise looked toward the study door.
"Olivia is a problem.""
My fingers curled around the edge of the table.
The man spoke again.
"You said she wouldn't interfere.""
"She wasn't supposed to.""
"Then why is she still living there?""
Denise gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Because Richard refuses to send her away. He thinks she's some innocent little girl who needs protecting.""
My father reached for the tablet.
"Who is that man?""
James shook his head.
"We haven't identified him yet, sir.""
On the recording, Denise paced beside the desk.
"Once Olivia is arrested, Richard won't have anyone left to protect," she said.
"He'll be desperate to keep the family name out of the newspapers. He'll sign whatever I put in front of him.""
I felt sick.
This wasn't about a bracelet.
It was about me being arrested, humiliated, and removed from my father's life.
My father looked at Denise as if he were seeing a stranger.
"How long have you been planning this?""
She shook her head rapidly.
"Richard, listen to me. That recording is completely out of context.""
"What context makes planting stolen property in your stepdaughter's handbag acceptable?""
"You don't understand what I've been dealing with!""
"Then tell me.""
Denise glanced around the table, searching for an ally.
"Robert, please. You know how difficult Olivia has been since she started university. She's secretive, she's disrespectful, and she's constantly asking Richard for money.""
Uncle Robert frowned.
"I don't remember her asking for money.""
"Because you don't live here!""
My father cut in.
"Enough. Answer the question.""
Denise's eyes filled with tears.
For years, I had watched her cry whenever she wanted to escape the consequences of something cruel she'd said or done. Usually, my father would soften, and she'd emerge from the confrontation with an apology from everyone except herself.
This time, he didn't move.
"I made a mistake," she said.
"You planted a forty-thousand-dollar bracelet in your stepdaughter's bag," he replied.
"That's not a mistake. That's a decision.""
Denise reached for his arm.
"Richard, I love you.""
He stepped away.
"Don't touch me.""
The words seemed to drain the color from her face.
Then the front door opened.
A moment later, Daniel Whitmore, our family attorney, entered the dining room carrying a leather briefcase and a sealed folder.
Daniel had handled my father's business affairs for fifteen years. He was a meticulous man who wore dark suits even on weekends and never arrived without calling first.
Tonight, he looked as though he'd been running.
"Richard," he said, "we have a serious problem.""
My father gestured toward the tablet.
"I think we're beginning to understand that.""
Daniel glanced at the frozen image of Denise in the study.
His expression tightened.
"You've seen the footage?""
"Enough of it," my father replied.
"Tell me about the documents.""
Daniel placed the folder on the table.
"Yesterday afternoon, our office received an electronic request to transfer ownership of this residence into a private holding company.""
My father stared at him.
"What?""
"The request includes your electronic signature and an authorization number associated with your account.""
"I never authorized a transfer.""
"I know. That's why I came here personally.""
Daniel opened the folder and spread several pages across the table. Legal descriptions of the property, corporate registrations, and signature verification records lay beneath the chandelier.
My father examined the first page.
"This company doesn't belong to us.""
"No," Daniel said.
"It's registered to an entity called Northbridge Residential Holdings. Its listed manager is a woman named Patricia Vale.""
Denise suddenly went still.
I noticed.
So did Daniel.
"Do you know that name?"" he asked her.
She looked away.
"No.""
Daniel studied her for a moment.
"Interesting. Because the company was incorporated six weeks ago, and the contact email uses a domain associated with a consulting firm that has previously worked with you.""
Denise's chair scraped backward.
"This is absurd. You're all making wild accusations because of one video.""
Daniel didn't raise his voice.
"Then you should have no objection to an independent forensic review of the transfer request.""
"I absolutely object! You can't freeze my access to the family accounts because of some fabricated recording.""
"Nobody mentioned freezing your access," Daniel said.
Her silence was immediate.
My father noticed it too.
"Why would you think we're discussing the accounts?""
Denise opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
My heart pounded so loudly that I could barely hear the room around me.
James stood beside the dining table, his hands clasped in front of him.
"Sir," he said, "there's something else.""
My father turned.
James looked down at the tablet.
"I reviewed the security system after I discovered the footage of Mrs. Carter entering Miss Olivia's room. There are several gaps in the recordings from the past month.""
"Technical failures?"" Daniel asked.
"I initially thought so. But the gaps occurred around specific times. Whenever Mrs.
Carter entered the study, the upstairs hallway, or the room where Mr. Carter keeps his personal documents.""
My father went rigid.
"Are you telling me someone has been tampering with my security system?""
"Yes, sir.""
"Who?""
James swallowed.
"I can't prove that yet.""
Denise seized the opening.
"Exactly! This is ridiculous. James has been working in this house for years, and now suddenly he wants to accuse me of crimes? Perhaps he's the one manipulating the cameras.""
James's face tightened, but he didn't argue.
Instead, he tapped the screen.
A third recording appeared.
It showed Denise standing near the back entrance of the house, speaking to a man in a dark coat.
The image was grainy, but the man's posture was unmistakable. He kept his face turned away from the camera.
Denise handed him a small envelope.
The man asked, "What if the girl sees us?""
Denise replied, "She won't.""
"And Richard?""
"He'll believe whatever I tell him. He always has.""
My father's jaw tightened.
The man slipped the envelope inside his coat.
"What about the other plan?"" he asked.
Denise glanced toward the camera's position, as though she could somehow sense it watching her.
"If Richard refuses to sign the remaining papers," she said, "we'll have to use the other plan.""
The man lowered his voice.
"And what about his daughter?""
Denise smiled.
"She won't be the only one disappearing from that house.""
The recording abruptly ended.
Nobody moved.
My father reached for the tablet with trembling hands.
"What does that mean?""
James looked genuinely shaken.
"I don't know, sir. Someone deleted the remaining footage this morning. I recovered only this fragment.""
Daniel closed the folder.
"Richard, we need to contact the authorities. Immediately. This is no longer just a property dispute.""
Denise rushed toward the doorway.
"I am not staying here to be interrogated by my own family!""
James quietly stepped into her path.
"Mrs. Carter, I must ask you to wait.""
"Move!""
"I'm afraid I can't.""
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the hallway.
James stumbled half a step but held his position.
My father moved between them.
"If you touch him again, Denise, I'll make sure the police see every second of that recording.""
She stared at him with naked hatred.
Then she looked at me.
"You think you've won something, Olivia?""
I couldn't answer.
She leaned closer, her voice dropping until only those nearest could hear.
"Your mother made the same mistake.""
My blood turned to ice.
"What did you just say?"" I whispered.
Denise straightened.
For a moment, she looked almost pleased with herself.
Then the doorbell rang.
A security guard appeared in the hallway holding a black envelope.
"Mr. Carter," he said, "this was left at the front gate. It's addressed to Miss Olivia.""
My father took it.
Three words had been written across the front in thick black ink.
*YOU'RE TOO LATE.*
And when I opened the envelope, I discovered a photograph of myself sleeping in my bedroom the previous night.
Standing beside my bed was a man holding a set of keys.
May you like
I recognized him immediately.
He was the detective my father had hired to investigate my mother's death.
