Chapter 2 - The Wrong Date
Evelyn locked herself inside the downstairs study.
Adrian struck the door once.
Not hard.
Hard enough.
“Evelyn, open the door.”
She dragged an armchair against it.
“Go away.”
“We need to talk.”
“We had twelve years to talk.”
“This isn’t safe.”
She almost laughed.
“For whom?”
No answer.
Evelyn sat behind her father’s old walnut desk and stared at the new phone.
Her hands would not stop shaking.
The video remained in the gallery.
She turned off Wi-Fi first.
Then Bluetooth.
Then cellular data.
She had no idea whether Adrian knew the device password or had installed something on it.
She did know one thing.
She could not trust anything about the phone.
Evelyn opened the video information panel.
The displayed creation date was yesterday.
But another field caught her attention.
Imported Media.
She leaned closer.
The file name was a meaningless string of numbers.
Not something recorded directly by the phone.
Imported.
Someone had placed it there.
The question was who.
A soft knock came from the other side of the study door.
“Ev.”
Adrian sounded like himself again.
That frightened her more.
“Open the door. Please.”
“No.”
“You’re making conclusions based on a video you don’t understand.”
“My father is in it.”
“You heard a voice.”
“His voice.”
“You were emotional.”
She stared at the door.
There it was.
The first attempt to make her distrust herself.
For years Adrian had never spoken to her that way.
Or perhaps he had, and she had not recognized it.
“What was in the folder?”
Silence.
“What did Mara give you?”
“Old refinancing documents.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Another pause.
Evelyn looked toward the framed photograph on her father’s desk.
Thomas Hart standing beside a much younger Evelyn in grease-stained overalls, both grinning beside the half-restored Triumph motorcycle he had taught her to rebuild.
Thomas had loved evidence.
Not suspicion.
Not intuition.
Evidence.
“When something feels wrong,” he used to tell her, “don’t argue with the person who wants you confused. Find the thing that can’t lie.”
Evelyn looked down at the phone.
The red cabinet.
That could not lie.
Neither could the house records.
She opened an offline copy of the property information she had once downloaded while applying for insurance.
The home had originally belonged to Thomas.
He had transferred it into the Hart Family Living Trust eight years earlier.
After Evelyn and Adrian married, Thomas told her he had amended the trust so Evelyn could remain in the house permanently and Adrian would share ownership with her once certain conditions were met.
At least that was what Evelyn remembered.
Three years ago, after Thomas died, Adrian had handled most of the estate administration because Evelyn could barely function.
Mara, an attorney specializing in estate and property law, had helped.
Evelyn had thanked them both.
She now felt sick remembering it.
Her phone vibrated.
A text from Mara.
Are you awake?
Evelyn stared.
Another message arrived.
Please answer me.
She typed:
Did you put the video on this phone?
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Mara wrote:
Do not let Adrian take it.
Evelyn stood.
Outside the study, Adrian had gone silent.
She typed:
When was it recorded?
Mara replied:
Three years ago. Two days before your father died.
The room seemed to contract around Evelyn.
She gripped the desk.
Why does it say last night?
This time Mara took nearly a minute.
Because I changed the metadata. I needed you to open it immediately.
Evelyn’s anger surged.
YOU DID THIS?
I put the video on the phone. I didn’t make the recording.
How did you get the phone?
The answer came quickly.
Adrian asked me to help him choose your gift. He left it with me yesterday afternoon.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
So Adrian had unknowingly given Mara the opportunity.
Why now?
Mara did not answer.
A sound came from the hallway.
A floorboard.
Evelyn looked toward the door.
“Adrian?”
No response.
She moved quietly toward the study windows.
The terrace outside was dark.
Her phone vibrated again.
Mara.
Because he’s doing it again.
Evelyn’s heart pounded.
Doing what?
Three dots.
Then:
Trying to take the house.
Evelyn typed:
What happened three years ago?
Mara’s reply appeared one sentence at a time.
Your father caught us.
He stopped the transfer.
Then he died.
Evelyn pressed her hand over her mouth.
A final message arrived.
Adrian found another way. The filing happens tomorrow morning.
From the hallway came the faint metallic scrape of something touching the study lock.
Evelyn stared at the door.
Then at the phone.
Her father’s warning echoed in her head.
If anything happens to her…
She picked up the heavy brass key Thomas used to keep in the desk drawer.
Not as a weapon.
May you like
As a reminder.
Then she climbed out through the study window.
