Chapter 4 - My Brother’s Betrayal
Victor arrived at the hospital at 2:40 in the morning wearing a dark overcoat and the concerned expression of a devoted brother.
He embraced me before I could stop him.
“I heard about Elena,” he said. “How bad is it?”
I stared into the face of the boy I had protected since childhood.
Victor was four years younger than me. When our father died, I had paid his debts, buried his scandals, and placed him inside every company I owned. He had been the best man at my wedding.
Now Elena’s recording carried his voice.
“Who told you she was here?” I asked.
He hesitated for only half a second.
“Jonas.”
Jonas stood ten feet away and gave no reaction.
He had not called Victor.
“What happened?” Victor continued. “Someone said she was pregnant.”
“My son was delivered tonight.”
His surprise was almost perfect.
“Your son?”
“Yes.”
He reached for my shoulder.
“Damian, I had no idea.”
I stepped away.
“How could you?”
Victor’s hand fell.
Something passed between us.
A recognition that the conversation had moved beneath the surface.
He looked toward Elena’s room.
“Is she conscious?”
“No.”
“Then we should let the doctors work.”
“We should.”
Victor remained another ten minutes before claiming he needed to contact the family attorney.
The moment he entered the elevator, I spoke to Jonas.
“Follow him.”
“You think he’ll lead us to Madison?”
“I think he’ll contact whoever he fears most.”
Jonas left with two men.
I returned to Elena’s bedside and played the recording again through an earpiece.
Victor’s voice was unmistakable.
But something troubled me.
The background sound repeated twice at exactly the same interval.
A metallic click.
Four seconds.
Another metallic click.
The pattern was too clean.
“Play it again,” said a voice behind me.
I turned.
A woman in a navy suit stood at the door, holding an identification badge.
“Detective Mara Reyes, Chicago Police.”
She was in her early forties, with tired eyes and the posture of someone who had spent too many years walking into dangerous rooms without backup.
“Dr. Mercer reported a suspected poisoning.”
“You arrived quickly.”
“I was already in the building on another case.”
Her gaze moved to the recorder.
“Is that connected?”
“It may be.”
“Then I’ll need it.”
“You can have a copy.”
“I’ll need the original.”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You invited law enforcement into this.”
“I invited you to investigate the poisoning. I did not surrender control of evidence that may have been planted.”
“That isn’t how investigations work.”
“It is tonight.”
She studied me for several seconds.
“People say you’re difficult.”
“People who say that usually wanted something.”
“And what do you want, Mr. Ashford?”
I looked at Elena.
“The truth before someone finishes what they started.”
Detective Reyes listened to the recording using hospital headphones.
When it ended, she requested another replay.
Then another.
“You noticed the clicking?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“It could be an edit marker.”
“So the recording may have been manipulated.”
“Possibly.”
The certainty I had felt about Victor began to fracture.
Elena had specifically prepared the message for me. Why would she leave altered evidence unless she had been deceived too?
Detective Reyes examined the recorder.
“This model automatically stores creation and modification dates.”
She connected it to a small forensic tablet.
“The file was created six days ago.”
“Elena said Madison found her yesterday.”
“The recording may not describe yesterday.”
“Can you identify whether the voice was generated or copied?”
“With the right analysis.”
“Do it.”
She disconnected the device.
“I need a list of everyone who had access to Elena during the last month.”
“We don’t know where she worked or who treated her.”
“Then we start with her phone.”
Jonas called before dawn.
Victor had driven to a private residence in Winnetka owned by one of our shell corporations.
Madison was there.
“So they are working together,” I said.
“Maybe,” Jonas replied. “Victor entered alone. Our thermal camera shows at least three people inside.”
“Do not move until I arrive.”
Detective Reyes overheard enough of the conversation to understand.
“You are not conducting a raid.”
“I’m visiting property I own.”
“With armed men?”
“I rarely visit anyone without them.”
She followed us north despite my objections.
The residence sat behind iron gates near the lake. It had been purchased years earlier as a safe house but had supposedly remained unused.
Victor’s car stood in the circular driveway.
Madison’s was nowhere in sight.
We entered through the rear.
The kitchen lights were on.
A cup of coffee steamed on the counter.
From the basement came the sound of a man shouting.
We descended with weapons drawn.
Victor was tied to a chair.
Blood covered one side of his face.
Two men in black clothing lay unconscious near the wall, already subdued by Jonas’s advance team.
Madison was gone.
I cut the rope around Victor’s wrists.
“What happened?”
He coughed.
“She called me and said Elena was dying. She said you would blame me unless I came here.”
“The recording contains your voice.”
“What recording?”
I played it.
Victor’s face drained of color.
“That line came from a conversation we had last year.”
“What conversation?”
He looked ashamed.
“Elena came to me after the divorce. She wanted help reaching you. I told her she should stay gone because your enemies would use her against you.”
“You threatened her.”
“I warned her.”
“You told her I ordered her death.”
“No.”
His denial carried genuine fury.
“Damian, I would never tell her that.”
Detective Reyes entered the basement holding a laptop recovered upstairs.
“There are surveillance files on this computer,” she said. “Most are encrypted.”
“Whose computer?” I asked.
Victor looked toward the stairs.
“Madison’s.”
Detective Reyes opened the only accessible video.
The footage showed Elena inside her apartment six weeks earlier. She was sleeping while a figure wearing medical scrubs entered with a key.
The person opened Elena’s refrigerator and replaced a bottle of prenatal vitamins with an identical bottle.
Before leaving, the intruder turned toward the hidden camera.
Madison’s face filled the screen.
She smiled directly into the lens.
Then she held up a handwritten message.
THE BABY WAS NEVER THE REAL TARGET.
May you like
A second line appeared beneath it.
DAMIAN WAS.
