Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Line
“Where are you, Evelyn?” Mark demanded, his voice rigid as iron, holding back a volcano of rage.
A light, aristocratic chuckle came over the line. “Oh, don't be so dramatic, Mark. I am at a quiet hotel in Chicago, having tea. You really shouldn't have involved the police. It’s embarrassing for the family. Do you have any idea what the newspapers will do with this if it leaks?”
I stepped closer to the microphone, my body shaking with pure disgust. “You poisoned a two-week-old baby, Evelyn! You terrorized your seven-year-old grandson! You belong in a federal prison cell!”
Silence stretched over the line for three agonizing seconds before Evelyn’s polite tone vanished, replaced by an icy, razor-sharp malice.
“I did what was necessary to protect this family from lifetime ruin,” Evelyn snapped, her voice devoid of a single ounce of humanity. “You two are naive fools! You have no idea the burden of raising a defective child! The medical bills, the public pity, the endless embarrassment at every social gathering! I gave forty years of my life to make the Sterling name mean something in this city, and I will not let a broken baby drag us into the gutter!”
“She isn't broken!” Mark roared, slamming his fist onto the oak desk so hard the computer monitor rattled. “Brenda is my daughter! She is perfect, she is loved, and she has ten times the heart you will ever have!”
“She is an anomaly!” Evelyn spat back. “And your little boy—Ben—he’s soft! Sleeping under a crib like a stray dog! You’re raising a family of weaklings, Mark. If you proceed with these absurd police charges, I will unleash every lawyer, every media contact, and every legal strategy I possess. I will tie you up in custody battles, claim you and Sarah are mentally unfit, and bankrupt you before this year is out.”
“Try it,” I said softly, my voice chillingly calm. “Because we didn't just find the dropper bottle, Evelyn. We found your emails to the illegal adoption broker in Prague. We have your financial records. And we have your grandson’s recorded testimony.”
A sharp intake of breath rattled through the phone speaker. For the first time, Evelyn’s composure cracked.
“You... you wouldn't dare release those,” she whispered, genuine fear creeping into the edges of her voice.
“Detective Jenkins is tracing this call right now,” Mark said coldly. “Enjoy your tea, Mother. It’s the last luxury you’ll ever have.”
May you like
Mark ended the call. Two seconds later, he forwarded the audio recording directly to Detective Jenkins’s secure email address.
The hunt was officially on.
