Chapter 8 - BACK INTO MY MOTHER’S HOUSE

Getting into Daria’s mansion was easy.

Getting out with evidence would be harder.

I still owned half the property.

My name remained on the gate authorization.

At noon, I arrived carrying flowers.

Daria met me in the foyer.

“How thoughtful.”

“I owe you an apology.”

That surprised her.

Good.

“I was hostile last night,” I continued. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

She studied me.

Then smiled.

“My poor boy.”

I almost hated myself for how well the lie worked.

She touched my cheek.

“You’ve always been emotional.”

For twenty minutes, I let her talk.

She told me the board vote had been a misunderstanding.

She told me Evelyn was manipulating me.

She told me I needed rest.

Then I excused myself to use the bathroom.

Instead, I entered my father’s study.

The green marble panel stood behind his desk.

I pressed along the edges.

Nothing.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

I tried again.

A tiny section clicked.

The panel opened.

Inside was an old digital recorder.

I slipped it into my coat just as the study door opened.

Daria stood there.

“What are you doing?”

I looked at the bookshelf.

“Looking for Dad’s copy of The Great Gatsby.”

She glanced at my coat.

For one second, I thought she knew.

Then she smiled.

“It’s in the library.”

I left calmly.

Three blocks away, federal technicians copied the recorder.

The audio began with my father’s voice.

“Daria, where did the eight million go?”

Then my mother.

“You signed papers you never read.”

“You stole from us.”

“I protected what should have been mine.”

There was a long silence.

My father spoke again.

“If anything happens to me, Samuel gets everything.”

Daria laughed softly.

“You still think Samuel makes decisions without me?”

The recording ended with my father saying he planned to expose her.

Naomi looked at me.

“This establishes motive.”

“Not murder.”

“No.”

Then the technician raised a hand.

“There’s another file.”

We played it.

Static.

My father coughing.

A glass hitting a table.

Then Daria’s voice, very close.

“You should have left the will alone, Thomas.”

My father gasped.

“What did you put in my drink?”

Silence.

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Then my mother answered.

“Something that will look like your heart finally gave up.”