Chapter 8: The Recording Daniel Left Behind
My father refused to let me go anywhere near the basement.
Within minutes, the hotel's security team had sealed the parking levels and contacted the police.
Jonathan stood beside the executive lounge entrance, speaking into his earpiece.
“Check the western exit. Nobody leaves without verification.””
I sat on the sofa with Grace in my arms.
My mind kept returning to Peter's final message.
*I'm at the Ashbourne Grand. Basement parking. Please come alone.*
He had been there.
He had known something.
And now he was missing.
My father paced near the window.
“Jonathan, any update?””
“Not yet, Chairman.””
“Have the police been informed?””
“Yes. They're on their way.””
My father stopped.
“Then why is nobody telling us what happened?””
Jonathan lowered his voice.
“We've found his car. The driver's door was open, and his phone was on the passenger seat.””
I swallowed.
“Was there blood?””
Jonathan looked at me.
“No, Mrs. Brooks.””
I closed my eyes.
At least that was something.
A few minutes later, two police officers arrived.
One was a middle-aged detective named Sarah Mitchell.
She introduced herself and asked to speak with my father.
“Mr. Brooks, we understand this situation may be connected to an earlier investigation.””
My father nodded.
“My son-in-law died six months ago under circumstances we would like reviewed.””
Detective Mitchell opened her notebook.
“Do you have evidence suggesting foul play?””
I showed her Peter's messages.
She read them carefully.
“Did you know Mr. Lawson personally?””
“No. He worked with my husband.””
“Have you spoken with him before today?””
“No.””
She looked at the photograph of Daniel's folder.
“Do you recognize this location?””
I studied the background.
The office had a glass wall and a large framed photograph of the Ashbourne Grand.
“Yes. That's Daniel's former workplace.””
Detective Mitchell made a note.
“We'll need the original photograph and the complete message history.””
I handed her my phone.
She photographed the screen and returned it.
Then she asked my father to provide Daniel's former employment details.
While they spoke, Jonathan approached me.
“Mrs. Brooks, there's something you should see.””
My father turned.
“What is it?””
“Security has recovered footage from the basement.””
He placed a tablet on the table.
The video showed a black sedan entering the parking area.
A man stepped out.
Peter Lawson.
He looked over his shoulder twice before walking toward the elevators.
Then another vehicle appeared.
A dark SUV.
It stopped near the far wall.
The driver remained inside.
Peter approached the vehicle.
The footage showed him speaking to someone through the open window.
Then he handed something through the window.
A small black object.
My stomach tightened.
“What did he give them?””
Jonathan zoomed in.
“We can't identify it clearly.””
The SUV drove away.
Peter remained in the parking area.
He looked toward the elevator.
Then he disappeared behind a concrete pillar.
The footage ended.
Detective Mitchell leaned forward.
“Can we get the original recording?””
“Yes,” Jonathan replied.
“It's being preserved.””
My father looked at him.
“Was the SUV registered to a hotel guest?””
Jonathan checked his notes.
“No. The number plate appears to be false.””
The detective closed her notebook.
“We'll need to investigate that vehicle.””
I looked at the screen again.
Peter had handed someone something.
Maybe the recording.
Maybe the evidence Daniel had left behind.
“Did he escape?”” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
Unknown number.
*Check the old music box. Daniel left it for Grace.*
I stared.
The old music box.
I knew exactly what that meant.
Daniel had bought it for our daughter before she was born.
A little wooden box with painted flowers and a tiny silver bird on top.
It sat on the shelf in Grace's nursery.
I had never thought much about it.
“Daddy.””
He looked at me.
I showed him the message.
His expression changed.
“Who sent this?””
“I don't know.””
Detective Mitchell leaned closer.
“Don't respond. We'll trace what we can.””
My father looked toward Jonathan.
“Get someone to retrieve the music box from Naomi's home.””
I shook my head.
“It's in the nursery. I don't want strangers handling it.””
My father softened.
“Then we'll have security accompany us.””
Detective Mitchell intervened.
“If the item may contain evidence, I'd prefer to have an officer present.””
I nodded.
“Of course.””
The detective arranged for two officers to accompany Jonathan and one of my father's security staff.
While they left, I sat quietly with Grace.
I kept thinking about Daniel.
The way he used to talk to my stomach.
The way he would place his hand over mine and whisper that he couldn't wait to meet his daughter.
He had known something was wrong.
And he had tried to leave us a way to discover the truth.
An hour later, Jonathan returned.
He carried a clear evidence bag.
Inside was the wooden music box.
It looked exactly as I remembered.
The little painted flowers.
The silver bird.
The tiny brass key.
Detective Mitchell examined it carefully.
“Was this damaged before?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
She turned it over.
The bottom panel had a small scratch near one corner.
I frowned.
“That's new.””
Jonathan looked closer.
“There's a screw missing.””
The detective put on gloves.
She carefully removed the loose wooden panel.
Inside was a small memory card wrapped in plastic.
I covered my mouth.
My father stared at it.
“That's what Daniel wanted us to find.””
Detective Mitchell placed the card in an evidence container.
“We'll need to examine this properly.””
But before she could arrange for it to be transferred, Jonathan noticed a folded piece of paper inside the music box.
He looked at the detective.
“May I?””
She nodded.
He removed it carefully.
The handwriting was Daniel's.
My knees weakened.
I knew every curve of those letters.
Jonathan unfolded the paper.
There were only a few lines.
*Naomi, if you're reading this, I wasn't able to tell you everything.*
*Trust Thomas. But don't trust everyone who works for him.*
*The person behind the transfers has access to the chairman's private accounts.*
At the bottom was a name.
MARTIN COLE.
My father frowned.
“Martin?””
Jonathan looked up.
“Martin Cole is the current chief financial officer of Brooks International.””
The room went silent.
My father slowly took the paper.
“Martin has been with me for eighteen years.””
I looked at him.
“Could he have been involved?””
“I don't know.””
Detective Mitchell placed the note beside the memory card.
“We'll need to establish whether this evidence is authentic.””
My father nodded.
“Of course.””
Then Jonathan's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?””
He turned away from us.
“Yes. I understand.””
He ended the call.
My father looked at him.
“What's happened?””
Jonathan swallowed.
“Martin Cole has requested an emergency meeting of the board.””
“Why?””
“He claims the chairman is using company resources to pursue a personal family dispute.””
My father let out a humorless laugh.
“Convenient.””
Jonathan continued.
“He has also requested an immediate review of your authority to access the company's financial records.””
My father's eyes narrowed.
“On what grounds?””
“Conflict of interest.””
I felt cold.
Richard wanted my father distracted.
Martin wanted control of the financial records.
And someone had taken Peter Lawson's evidence.
It was beginning to look less like a family dispute and more like a coordinated effort.
My father turned toward me.
“Naomi, I need to tell you something.””
“What?””
“Martin knows where every original financial record is kept.””
I looked at the memory card.
“Then he knows about this.””
My father nodded.
“And if Daniel recorded the transfers, Martin will do everything possible to prevent that recording from becoming public.””
Detective Mitchell stood.
“The evidence will remain in police custody. Nobody outside the investigation will have access to it without authorization.””
My father thanked her.
She placed the memory card into a sealed evidence pouch.
Then Jonathan's phone vibrated again.
A message appeared from the company's legal department.
He read it.
Then looked at my father.
“Chairman, the board meeting has been moved forward.””
“When?””
“Tomorrow morning.””
“Why?””
Jonathan hesitated.
“Martin has submitted a motion to suspend your executive authority.””
My father looked at me.
For the first time that day, he appeared genuinely uncertain.
Then Jonathan added:
“Richard Whitmore has also been invited to attend as a special shareholder representative.””
I stared at him.
“Richard isn't a shareholder.””
Jonathan nodded.
“That's what I thought.””
He opened another document.
“Apparently, he acquired a significant block of shares through a private investment company three months ago.””
My father took the document.
His expression turned cold.
“What company?””
Jonathan answered.
“Whitmore Capital Holdings.””
I looked at the name.
Then at the note Daniel had left.
Something clicked.
“Daddy?””
“Yes?””
“Daniel must have found the connection before he died.””
My father nodded slowly.
“And now they're trying to take control of the company.””
I looked down at Grace.
Her little hand had wrapped around my finger.
I made a promise silently.
Whatever Daniel had discovered, I would not let it disappear.
But the next morning, when my father entered the boardroom, he would discover that the betrayal ran much deeper than either of us had imagined.
May you like
Because someone had already prepared a document to remove him.
And the signature at the bottom belonged to the man who had raised me.
