Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Machine
The music stopped. The ballroom floor went quiet as the guests realized the tension emanating from the corner. Julian tried to regain his footing, adjusting his cufflinks. "Clara, honey, the stress is clearly getting to you. Let’s go to the private suite."
Clara ignored him. She pulled a small, portable tablet from the bag hidden under her chair’s cushion and plugged in the drive from the silver bird. The screen flickered to life.
It wasn't a video of a crash. It was audio—the recording of a phone call. Julian’s voice filled the room, amplified by the silent air. “Cut the brakes, Silas. She’s worth more to me as an inheritance than a wife. Make it look like an accident.”
The ballroom gasped. The board members stopped in their tracks, their faces darkening. Julian’s facade shattered. He reached for his phone, likely to call his private security, but his hand was shaking too violently to dial.
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"I didn't think I'd survive," Clara said, looking up at him, her voice cold and resonant. "But you made one mistake, Julian. You underestimated the mechanic. You thought you bought his silence, but you only bought his resentment."
The boy, Leo, stepped back, his job done. He knew his father was already at the police station with the original recording.
