Chapter 7 - Brooke’s Version
Brooke sat in her father’s study with both hands clenched in her lap.
Grant Hayes stood beside the fireplace.
Her bracelet was gone.
She had known that since Tuesday night.
She had told herself she dropped it at school.
Then in the parking lot.
Then at home.
Each version had been easier than the truth.
“You will say you rode in Mercer’s vehicle two weeks ago,” Grant told her.
“That won’t work.”
“It will if you stop behaving like a frightened child.”
“I am your child.”
Grant’s expression barely moved.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
Brooke looked at the phone he had taken from her.
The anonymous account she used to contact Ethan was still logged in.
Her father did not know about it.
At least she hoped he didn’t.
“Dad, where is Lena?”
“I’ve answered that.”
“No. You said she’s safe.”
“She is.”
“Where?”
“That is not your concern.”
Brooke stood.
“You made it my concern when you told me to get her files.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“I told you to convince her to stop spreading lies.”
“You told me she was attacking our family.”
“She was.”
“You said Mercer would scare her.”
“Lower your voice.”
Brooke laughed.
It came out shaky.
“She was crying when he put her in that car.”
“You were upset.”
“I saw it.”
“You saw Wade escort a hysterical girl away from a confrontation.”
“He grabbed her.”
Grant stepped closer.
“Brooke.”
For most of her life, that voice had controlled rooms.
Teachers changed grades.
Coaches adjusted rules.
Restaurant managers found tables that hadn’t existed thirty seconds earlier.
Brooke had believed power meant her father could protect her from consequences.
Now she understood the other side.
Power could decide what consequences were.
“I want to tell the police.”
Grant stared at her.
“You assaulted a boy in a cafeteria yesterday.”
Her face burned.
“I kicked a table.”
“You have spent a year publicly tormenting Lena Ortiz.”
Brooke said nothing.
“You sent the message that brought her behind the gym.”
Silence.
“You entered Mercer’s vehicle.”
“I didn’t know he was taking her.”
“Can you prove that?”
Brooke’s throat tightened.
Grant continued.
“Imagine the headlines. Wealthy bully lures scholarship student to kidnapping.”
“I didn’t kidnap her.”
“Truth is rarely the first thing people care about.”
He moved toward his desk.
“Especially once they already hate you.”
Brooke thought of Ethan on the cafeteria floor.
She had wanted everyone laughing at him.
Why?
Because he looked at her without admiration.
Because Lena had done the same.
Because cruelty made Brooke feel powerful in rooms where she was actually terrified.
Grant picked up her phone.
“Who were you messaging?”
Her stomach dropped.
“No one.”
He turned the screen toward her.
The anonymous account.
Her conversation with Ethan.
Brooke could not breathe.
Grant’s voice became very quiet.
“You told him she was supposed to come back.”
Brooke backed away.
“I didn’t tell him where she was.”
“Because you don’t know.”
“I want to know.”
“You want to protect yourself.”
“So do you.”
For the first time, anger cracked his calm expression.
He grabbed the edge of the desk.
“Everything you have exists because I built it.”
Brooke felt tears sting her eyes but refused to let them fall.
“Then maybe that’s the problem.”
Grant stared at her.
“You will go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Brooke.”
“I’m not six.”
“No. If you were six, I could still protect you from your own stupidity.”
He placed her phone in his pocket.
Brooke left the study because staying would have meant screaming.
Upstairs, she locked her bedroom door.
Then she opened the drawer beneath her makeup table.
Inside was an old smartwatch.
She had stopped wearing it months ago because the screen was cracked.
It still connected to Wi-Fi.
Barely.
Brooke opened the voice recorder.
Then she sat on the floor and tried to remember Tuesday night.
Lena behind the gym.
The dark SUV.
Mercer saying, “Your father wants the phone.”
Lena backing away.
Brooke telling her, “Just give it to him.”
Lena answering, “You think this stops with me?”
Mercer grabbing Lena’s arm.
Brooke shouting, “Hey!”
The car door closing.
Then Grant arriving seven minutes later.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Angry at Brooke for crying.
She had asked where Lena was going.
Her father had said:
“She’ll be home by Monday.”
That was why those words had slipped out in the cafeteria.
Brooke’s hands shook.
A sound came from downstairs.
Her father was on the phone.
She cracked open her bedroom door.
His voice carried up the staircase.
“No, moving her again is worse.”
Brooke stopped breathing.
A pause.
Then:
“I don’t care what Mercer says. The lake property is already compromised.”
Brooke pressed record on the watch.
Grant continued.
“Use the freight location until I deal with the Cole boy.”
Brooke’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Another pause.
Then her father said:
“And make sure Lena doesn’t get near a phone this time.”
Brooke stared at the recording timer.
Eight seconds.
Nine.
Ten.
The floorboard beneath her foot creaked.
Grant stopped talking.
Silence filled the house.
“Brooke?”
May you like
She ran.
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