Chapter 2 - The Secret Recording
The upstairs hallway was quiet, save for the muffled sound of Ellie screaming into her phone downstairs, demanding that Parker come home immediately to rescue his family from his “tyrannical” wife. Clarissa sat Dustin down on his bed, knelt beside him, and gently wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks. “You did nothing wrong, buddy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “You are never a burden, and you will never, ever have to eat alone like that again. Do you understand?” Dustin nodded, burying his face in her shoulder. “I love you, Mom.” “I love you too, sweetheart. Now, help me pack your clothes quickly. We are going back to the city.”
While Dustin folded his favorite dinosaur shirts into his blue canvas duffel bag, Clarissa walked over to her nightstand. A strange, nagging intuition had been scratching at the back of her mind ever since she found the grocery bags in the kitchen. She remembered Alana and Ellie acting remarkably calm when she walked in—almost as if they had been expecting someone else, or as if they were in the middle of discussing something confidential before she interrupted them. Clarissa’s eyes drifted toward the small charging station on the oak dresser. Sitting there, half-hidden behind a decorative stack of fashion magazines, was an old, secondary tablet that Parker sometimes left behind when he visited the country house for weekend golf trips.
Clarissa walked over and picked up the device. The screen lit up with a swipe. Parker wasn't particularly tech-savvy when it came to security settings; he used the same four-digit PIN for nearly all his electronics—Dustin’s birth year. She punched in the numbers, and the home screen unlocked instantly. Her instincts screamed at her to check the recent audio recordings and messaging apps. Parker rarely used voice memos, but she noticed a native audio recording app icon sitting right on the main dock, displaying a red dot indicating a recent file had been saved just forty minutes ago, right around the time she must have been driving up the gravel driveway.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. With trembling fingers, she tapped the screen and pressed play on the audio file labeled Draft_Call_Final.
At first, there was only static and the rustling of fabric. Then, Ellie’s shrill voice came booming out of the small tablet speaker, crystal clear and unmistakably loud.
“...Are you sure Parker is going to sign the deed over by next month?” Ellie asked on the recording.
Alana’s voice answered, smooth and dripping with calculated greed. “Of course he is. The boy is wrapped around my finger. Once we convince him that Clarissa is mentally unstable and emotionally abusive toward Dustin, he'll file for sole custody and force a quick divorce settlement. Since this country house and his downtown condo were both acquired during temporary asset reallocations, we can legally claim financial hardship and pressure him into transferring the deeds into my name to ‘protect’ the family estate from Clarissa’s nursing salary claims.”
Clarissa stopped breathing. The tablet felt like a block of ice in her hands.
The audio continued, Parker’s own voice suddenly joining the conversation via speakerphone. “Mom, do you really have to push her out so aggressively? Clarissa works hard at the hospital.”
Alana scoffed through the speakers, her tone venomous. “Hard work? She’s just a nurse, Parker! She thinks because she bought these properties before the marriage she's queen of the castle. If you want our financial backing for your new commercial logistics venture, you need total control of those assets. Get rid of her, take the boy, and let us handle the rest. Besides, that kid of hers isn't even worth keeping around once we secure the house titles.”
Parker’s voice hesitated on the recording, weak and pathetic. “Alright, Mom… I'll talk to an attorney on Monday. Just make sure the summer plan keeps Dustin out of our hair while I sign the papers.”
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The recording ended with the sound of laughter—Alana, Ellie, and Parker sharing a collective joke about destroying her life, her home, and her son’s safety.
Clarissa stood frozen in the center of the bedroom, the weight of the betrayal crashing down upon her with the force of a tidal wave. For five years, she had believed she was building a loving family with a man who respected her independence. Instead, she had been sleeping next to a spineless puppet whose mother and sister were orchestrating a calculated, premeditated financial execution to steal her properties and discard her child like garbage. A cold, fierce clarity washed over her soul. The sadness evaporated instantly, replaced by a ruthless, razor-sharp determination. They wanted a war of attrition? She was going to give them an annihilation.
