A sob broke through the recording.
“He was not a stranger.”
In the study, Edmund’s hand tightened around the back of a chair.
On the tape, my mother continued.
“Lionel said it had to look like grief. He said Father would break if the baby was gone. He said without Claire, the trust could be redirected.”
My heart pounded so hard I felt sick.
Then my mother whispered:
“But Lionel was not alone.”
The tape crackled.
A door banged somewhere in the recording. My mother gasped.
Then came another voice, faint but clear.
A man.
“Maggie, give me the child.”
The study turned to ice.
I knew that voice.
Not because I had heard it before in life.
Because I had heard its older echo all day.
I turned slowly toward Edmund.
He looked as if the tape had stabbed him.
On the recording, my mother screamed, “No, Edmund!”
The tape snapped into silence.
No one moved.
Mrs. Vale covered her mouth.
I stepped away from Edmund.
He raised one hand.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“You do not understand what happened that night.”
I laughed once, broken and raw. “That seems to be everyone’s favorite sentence.”
“I was trying to save you.”