Chapter 3 - The War for the TapeBy the time Daniel returned to the hospital, it was past midnight. His hands were scraped, and his shirt was torn at the collar. He didn't have the phone.
"They anticipated it," Daniel said, slamming his fist against the hospital wall in frustration. "By the time I got back to Bellamy House, the private dining room had been completely cleared. The staff claimed they hadn't seen any phone. Mother’s private security team was already guarding the perimeter."
I squeezed his hand, refusing to let panic take over. "It’s fine, Daniel. Did you think I would leave the only copy of the evidence on a physical device in an unsecured room?"
Daniel blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"The recording app I used wasn't a standard voice memo," I explained, leaning back against the pillows. "It’s an encrypted legal deposition app linked directly to Blackstone’s secure cloud servers. The moment the recording hit the ten-minute mark, it automatically uploaded and locked. Even if they smash the phone into a thousand pieces, the audio file is sitting safely in a secure server, timestamped and unalterable."
A look of intense relief washed over Daniel’s face, followed by a dark determination. "The police have already taken mother in for questioning based on the doctor’s report and my statement. But her lawyers are already working on getting her out on bail. They’re claiming it was a family dispute, an accidental slip."
"Let them bail her out," I said coldly. "It gives her a false sense of security. Tomorrow morning, the Blackstone board convenes for the quarterly review. They think it’s a routine meeting. They don't know I’ve added an emergency agenda item."
The next morning, against the doctor’s strict recommendations, I discharged myself from the hospital. I wore a loose-fitting, high-necked navy blue suit that completely hid the heavy bandages wrapping my abdomen. Every step felt like a knife twisting in my stomach, but I refused to wheel myself into that boardroom. I needed to look invincible.
Daniel walked beside me, his jaw set. As we entered the penthouse boardroom of the Blackstone Tower, the entire Bellamy clan was already seated. Vivian sat at the head of the table, flanked by a small army of defense attorneys. Elise sat next to her, nervously chewing her fingernails.
"Claire," the elderly board chairman, Arthur Pendelton, said, rising to his feet. "We heard about the... incident last night. We are deeply shocked. Are you sure you should be out of bed?"
"I am exactly where I need to be, Chairman," I said, taking my seat at the opposite end of the long mahogany table.
Vivian leaned forward, a smug smirk on her lips. "Chairman Pendelton, this is a private family matter that has been grossly exaggerated by an emotional young woman. My daughter-in-law is clearly trying to use a minor domestic accident to leverage power within the family."
"Is that so, Vivian?" I asked, opening my laptop and connecting it to the boardroom’s massive projection screen. "Let’s look at the data before we listen to the 'accident'."
With a few keystrokes, I brought up the financial audits. Huge red graphs flashed across the screen, detailing the missing $42 million from the primary trust account.
"Over the past three years," I announced, my voice echoing off the glass walls, "Vivian Bellamy has executed twelve unauthorized transfers to a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands under the name 'E.B. Holdings'—Elise Bellamy. These transfers required the joint signature of the co-trustee, Daniel Bellamy. However, forensic digital analysis shows that Daniel’s signature was forged using an outdated digital key."
The board members began to murmur frantically, leaning in to look at the documents. Arthur Pendelton’s face turned grim.
"This is absurd! These are standard reallocations!" Vivian shouted, slamming her hand on the table.
"And finally," I said, ignoring her outburst as I pressed play on the audio file. "Let’s review the 'minor domestic accident' that occurred when I attempted to notify the co-trustee of the conception of the next generation of heirs."
The audio filled the room. The sound of breaking crystal. Vivian’s loud, mocking voice: “You’re always desperate for attention.” Daniel’s defense: “Mother, let Claire speak.” My whispered announcement: “I’m pregnant.”
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And then, the sickening, heavy thud of a physical blow, followed by my gasp of agony and the sound of my body crashing to the marble floor. The audio captured Vivian’s final, chilling hiss perfectly: “You will not take what belongs to me.”
When the recording ended, the boardroom was dead silent. Even Vivian’s lawyers looked down at their legal pads, completely unable to defend the indefensible.
