“That attorney is Rebecca Shaw.”
Martin said nothing.
“I changed it six months ago.”
Silence.
“So I’m asking again.
Why are you here?”
Martin slowly fastened the button on his coat.
“I think tonight has been extremely traumatic.
You should sleep before you begin accusing every person around you.”
Julian moved between Martin and the door.
“Who called you?”
Martin’s expression hardened.
“Move aside.”
“Who called you?”
Martin did not answer.
“Bianca called you.”
Martin’s eyes betrayed him before he said anything.
Julian stepped backward as if he had been struck.
“Oh.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
Martin stayed silent.
Julian whispered, “You’ve been working with her.”
“No.”
“She contacted you after she left.”
“No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
Martin’s gaze moved toward the suitcase.
Julian understood.
“You came to get this.”
Martin’s face became blank.
Julian put his hand firmly on the suitcase.
“What are you afraid I’m going to find?”
Martin’s eyes dropped toward the cassette recorder.
Julian followed his gaze.
Martin moved first.
He lunged for the desk.
Julian caught his arm.
Both men crashed against a chair.
Martin was older, but desperation gave him surprising speed.
“Give me that tape!”
Julian shoved him backward.
The cassette recorder dropped onto the carpet.
Martin reached down.
Julian got to it first.
Security guards entered seconds later.
Martin immediately regained his composure.
“I think everyone is misunderstanding the situation.”
Julian stared at the man he had called Uncle Martin for most of his life.
“Get him out of my house.”
“Julian—”
“Now.”
Two guards took Martin toward the hallway.
At the doorway, Martin turned around.
“For your own sake, don’t listen to that tape.”
Julian lifted the recorder.
“Why?”
For the first time Julian could remember, Martin’s eyes contained genuine fear.
“Because your mother didn’t tell you everything.”
Julian pressed PLAY.
Static crackled through the speaker.
Then his father’s voice emerged.
“Is it working?”
Another voice answered.
Martin.
“Yes.”
The audio hissed.
Arthur Hale sounded younger.
And furious.
“We need her signature.”
“Elena won’t sign.”
“Then make her.”
“How?”
“I don’t care.”
A chair scraped across the floor.
Then Martha’s voice came through the recorder.
“Arthur, stop.”
Julian stopped breathing.
His mother.
Thirty-seven years younger.
“You’ve taken enough from her already.”
Arthur snapped back, “Stay out of this.”
“She created that design.”
“So?”
“So give her credit.”
“You want to lose everything?”
“I don’t care about everything.”
“That’s easy for you to say.
You spend it.”
Martha started crying.
Then Martin spoke.
“There may be another solution.”
Arthur asked, “What?”
“We make Elena appear unreliable.”
Julian felt the hair rise on his arms.
Martin continued speaking.
“Missing documents.
Conflicting dates.
Maybe we suggest she removed materials from the laboratory.”
Martha said, “No.”
Arthur asked, “Would that work?”
“Yes.”
Martha’s voice rose sharply.
“I said no!”
Then came an unclear sound.
A slap?
A book striking a desk?
Arthur’s voice dropped.
“You don’t get to decide.”
Martha spoke so quietly Julian nearly missed it.
“I’ll tell Julian someday.”
Arthur laughed.
“He’s two.”
The recording ended.
Julian stared at the machine.
His father had organized the destruction of Elena Laurent.
Martin had devised the strategy.
And Martha had known.
But she had objected.
Perhaps too late.
Perhaps too weakly.
Still, she had not created the plan.
Julian felt ill.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
You found the tape.
Julian typed immediately.
WHO IS THIS?
The reply arrived.
You already know.
Bianca.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
After several seconds, another message came.
Ask Martin why my mother spent twelve years in psychiatric hospitals.
Julian stared at the screen.
Then came one more.
Then ask your mother why she visited her every month.
At sunrise, Julian went back to the hospital.
Martha was awake.
He placed the cassette recorder on top of her blanket.
Her eyes closed.
“You listened to it.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
“When you were eighteen.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Your father said he would disinherit you.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“You think I care about the money?”
“You were eighteen.”
“So?”
“You had plans.
College.
A future.”
“So you protected the money.”
“No.”
Martha opened her eyes.
“I protected you from your father.”
Julian said nothing.
“Arthur was not the person you remember.”
“He stole Elena’s work.”
“Yes.”
“Martin helped destroy her.”
“Yes.”
“What happened after that recording?”
Martha looked out the window.
“Elena refused the settlement in the beginning.
She fought them publicly.
Arthur’s legal team destroyed her credibility.
Martin arranged people who would testify that she was unstable.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
Martha’s reply came instantly.
“She became unstable afterward.”
“Because of what they did to her?”
“Because no one would believe her.”
Martha’s voice began to break.
