Chapter 4: The Recording
Victor's message sat unanswered for three hours.
My father wanted to call the police.
I wanted answers.
Neither of us trusted the other enough to wait.
Eventually I called Victor.
He picked up immediately.
“Claire.””
“How do you know I opened the safe?””
“Because Eric told me.””
My heart pounded.
“Why would he tell you?””
“Because he's scared.””
“Of what?””
“You.””
I almost laughed.
“I'm eight months pregnant and I've spent the last twenty-four hours in a hospital.””
“He's still scared of you.””
“Why?””
Victor was silent.
Then he said, “Because he thinks your father found everything.””
My father's face hardened.
“Everything what?””
I put the phone on speaker.
Victor continued.
“Eric has been recording your arguments.””
The room went silent.
“What?””
“He wants proof that you're unstable.””
My throat tightened.
“For what?””
“Custody.””
Dad swore under his breath.
Victor kept talking.
“He planned to tell people that your pregnancy caused emotional instability. That you were paranoid. That you were becoming unpredictable.””
I remembered all the times Eric had put his phone face-down.
All the times he'd quietly said, “You're overreacting.””
All the times I'd apologized just to end an argument.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I was involved.””
Dad stepped forward.
“In what?””
Victor exhaled.
“The company.””
He admitted Northline Ventures was almost bankrupt.
Eric had poured borrowed money into it.
When that failed, he started using my assets.
First the savings.
Then credit cards.
Then the house.
Victor's voice lowered.
“There was one thing neither of us expected.””
“What?””
“Your pregnancy.””
“That doesn't explain any of this.””
“It explains his urgency.””
Dad's hand clenched into a fist.
Victor said, “He believed once the baby was born, you'd become less willing to fight.””
I stared at the floor.
The cruelty of it was almost too large to understand.
Then I remembered the roadside.
The words.
You always find a way to make everything about you.
It hadn't been a spontaneous outburst.
It had been the latest step in a plan.
I asked, “What is he planning now?””
Victor hesitated.
“There's a meeting tomorrow morning.””
“With who?””
“A buyer.””
“For the house?””
“Yes.””
My father immediately reached for his phone.
Victor continued.
“He thinks you'll sign eventually.””
“I'm not signing anything.””
“That is why you need to hear the rest.””
There was a pause.
“Eric has a second set of paperwork.””
My stomach dropped.
“What paperwork?””
“A power of attorney.””
My father looked at me.
“What?””
Victor said, “He forged your signature and had it notarized.””
I felt suddenly dizzy.
“Where?””
“In his office.””
Dad ended the call.
For the next hour, he and his attorney worked through the documents.
Then something happened that changed everything.
The police arrived.
Not because of the financial fraud.
Because of the roadside incident.
A witness had come forward.
Marcus, the delivery driver, had given them a statement.
He had also given them something else.
His dash camera had been running.
The officer played the video.
There I was.
Standing in the rain.
Barefoot on one side because my shoe had fallen off.
Clutching my stomach.
Begging Eric not to leave.
We watched silently.
Then Eric's voice came through the recording.
“You always make everything dramatic.””
Dad closed his eyes.
The officer stopped the video.
“We need your statement, Mrs. Hale.””
I nodded.
Then my phone lit up.
A photo.
Eric had sent it.
It showed the nursery in our house.
The crib.
The rocking chair.
The tiny yellow blanket I had bought for our daughter.
Under the picture was a message.
*You may have the locks changed, Claire.*
*But I still have something that belongs to you.*
Then another photo appeared.
A hospital bracelet.
Not mine.
A bracelet belonging to the baby.
I stared at it.
My stomach turned cold.
May you like
The message beneath it read:
*And I know where she will be born.*
