Chapter 4 - The File That Vanished
Greg's video feed shook as someone hammered on his door.
“Open it!” Sarah screamed.
Vanessa told him to move to a secure location and contact the police if he felt threatened.
The call disconnected.
For seven minutes, there was nothing.
Then Marcus sent me a photograph of an empty camera cabinet.
Someone had opened the secondary security office during the confusion surrounding Mia's evacuation.
Two backup drives were missing.
My stomach dropped.
“Are the original recordings gone?”
“No,” Marcus said immediately.
“They were transmitted to our off-site storage before the cabinets were opened.”
I exhaled.
“Who had access?”
“Senior resort personnel and two contractors.”
“What about Sarah?”
“Her events coordinator had received temporary credentials for the adjacent corridor.”
I wanted to call Sarah and demand an answer.
Instead, I called Vanessa.
“Let law enforcement handle the theft,” she said.
“Don't give your family a new argument that you tampered with evidence.”
I knew she was right.
The next morning, the physician cleared Mia for transfer to a specialist pediatric facility once the logistics were arranged.
She had not developed signs of the worst complications we feared, but her symptoms were still serious.
While the staff prepared her documents, she asked why her grandmother hadn't visited.
I looked at the little paper fish attached to her wristband.
“Grandma did something wrong,” I said.
“Grown-ups can do wrong things?”
“Yes.”
“Even grandmas?”
“Even grandmas.”
Mia considered this.
“Does she have to say sorry?”
“She should.”
“What if she doesn't?”
“Then we can still keep you safe.”
On the flight to the specialist hospital, Vanessa called with confirmation that Greg had reached the police station.
His sworn account supported my description of the shove.
But he'd also revealed why he'd been afraid to speak during the wedding.
Sarah had threatened to publish private messages from his father if he contradicted her in public.
“What messages?” I asked.
“Something about offshore financing.”
I gripped my seat belt.
“That's not my business.”
“Maybe not,” Vanessa said.
“But Sarah has apparently been trading on both families' reputations.”
That evening, I received a message from an unfamiliar number.
It contained a photograph of Mia on the sand.
The angle showed my father raising his hand over her.
Beneath the photograph was a sentence.
YOUR CAMERA ISN'T THE ONLY ONE.
I showed Marcus without responding.
He asked me to preserve the message and metadata.
Then a second message arrived.
IF YOU WANT THE REST, STOP ASKING ABOUT THE WEDDING.
It was the first time I understood that someone might be using my daughter's pain as leverage.
May you like
And I had no idea whose phone was on the other end.
