Chapter 6: Carol's Recording
I got through the rest of the brunch by doing the one thing no one in that house expected.
I was pleasant.
I smiled at the uncles.
I accepted a fresh glass of water from a cousin whose name I didn't know.
I stood beside Derek while he talked about a property investment and I nodded at the right moments and I said nothing that mattered.
Derek watched me the way a man watches something he thinks he controls.
Brenda watched me the way a woman watches something she isn't sure about anymore.
I left the estate at four in the afternoon.
I told Derek I needed air.
He offered to come with me.
I told him I wanted to walk alone, that the morning had been overwhelming, that I needed twenty minutes.
He let me go.
I walked three blocks, turned onto a side street, and called Carol Fitch.
She answered on the second ring.
"Miriam told me someone might call," she said.
"I wasn't sure I believed her."
"I'm calling," I said.
"Where are you right now?"
"Three blocks from the Hale estate."
A pause.
"You're still there?"
"I'm still married," I said.
"For now."
Carol was quiet for a moment.
Then: "How much do you know?"
"I know about Miriam's bank records.
I know about the pattern.
I know Brenda runs the selection process."
"She does," Carol said.
"I know because she selected me.
I thought Derek fell in love with me at a charity event.
It took me four months to realize the charity event was organized by Brenda specifically so Derek could meet me."
"Because of your assets."
"Because of my father," Carol said.
"He owns a logistics company.
Forty-seven vehicles, three warehouses, contracts with two regional supermarket chains.
Derek wanted access to those contracts.
He thought marrying me was the fastest route."
"What stopped it?"
"My father," Carol said simply.
"He ran a background check on Derek three weeks before the engagement was supposed to be announced.
Found the annulment.
Found the financial transfers.
Came to me with a folder and sat across the table from me and didn't say a word.
Just opened it and pushed it across."
I thought of my own father.
The cashier's check.
The quiet way he had pressed it into my hands the morning of the wedding and said only: *Just in case, sweetheart.
Just in case.*
"The recording," I said.
"Miriam told me you have a recording."
"I do." A breath.
"It was an accident.
I was at a dinner at the estate — this was before my father showed me the folder, I still thought everything was fine.
My phone was in my bag and I must have brushed the record button.
I didn't find it until two days later when I was clearing my voice memos."
"What's on it?"
"Brenda and Derek," Carol said.
"After dinner, when they thought everyone had gone to the garden.
They were in the dining room.
Brenda is going through my father's company like she's reading from a spreadsheet.
Contracts.
Revenue.
Estimated value.
And Derek says—" She stopped.
"What does he say?"
"He says, 'Once we're married, how long before we can move on the warehouse leases?' And Brenda says, 'Eighteen months.
Long enough that it looks organic.' And he says, 'And if she figures it out?' And Brenda says—"
Carol paused again.
"She says, 'They never figure it out until it's too late.
That's why we choose carefully.'"
The street was quiet around me.
A car passed.
Somewhere a dog barked twice and stopped.
"I need that recording," I said.
"I know," Carol said.
"I've been waiting for a reason to use it.
I just — I needed to know there was someone on the other end who could actually do something with it."
"Send it to me," I said.
"And send me the name of Miriam's forensic accountant."
"You have a plan," Carol said.
It wasn't a question.
"I have the beginning of one," I said.
"What do you need from me?"
"I need you to be willing to stand behind that recording if it comes to it."
A long pause.
"Yes," Carol said.
"I'll stand behind it."
I thanked her and ended the call.
I stood on the pavement for a moment.
The afternoon light was flat and grey.
My wedding dress was still faintly stained at the hem.
My phone buzzed.
The audio file from Carol arrived.
Then a text from Derek.
*Are you coming back?
Mother is asking.*
I typed back: *On my way.*
Then I turned around and walked back toward the estate.
May you like
I had eighteen months of their plan in my pocket.
They had no idea the clock had already run out.
