Chapter 10 - GRAHAM’S VOICE WAS ON THE RECORDINGGraham didn’t deny it.
That made Everett angrier.
“You told her to stop asking nicely.”
Graham looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
Doreen stepped back from him.
Detective Ellison moved closer.
“What did you mean?”
Graham swallowed.
“I meant pressure Hadley through routine.”
Everett stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Take away privileges.”
“Food?”
“No.”
“Cold showers?”
“No!”
“Locking her in rooms?”
“No.”
Everett slammed both hands onto the desk.
“THEN WHAT?”
Hadley was upstairs.
He immediately lowered his voice.
Graham looked ashamed.
“I thought Seraphina was trying to recover Laurel’s escrow before Marcus did.”
Everett froze.
“What?”
“She told me Marcus had threatened her.”
“So you were helping Seraphina.”
“Yes.”
“After knowing she stalked Laurel.”
“She said she wanted out.”
“And you believed her?”
“I wanted to.”
Everett laughed bitterly.
“Why?”
“Because I was guilty.”
There it was.
Graham continued.
“I helped create the problem. I thought if Seraphina recovered the evidence, we could expose Marcus and shut Lantern down.”
“By using Hadley.”
“I never intended harm.”
“Everyone’s favorite sentence.”
Graham flinched.
Everett leaned forward.
“You knew she was asking my eight-year-old for a secret phrase.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Because you thought you knew better.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Detective Ellison asked:
“Did Seraphina tell you how she was pressuring Hadley?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
Graham hesitated.
“No.”
Everett looked at him with disgust.
That was the truth.
People preserved innocence by refusing details.
Graham didn’t order abuse.
He simply created space where it could happen and avoided asking.
“Were you watching the cameras?”
“Sometimes.”
Everett went still.
“You saw her with Hadley.”
“Not the bathroom.”
“What did you see?”
Graham looked sick.
“Arguments.”
“What kind?”
“Seraphina yelling.”
“Hadley crying?”
“Yes.”
Everett’s hands curled.
“And you still said nothing.”
“I told Seraphina to back off.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I threatened to tell you.”
“What stopped you?”
“Marcus.”
Everett frowned.
“He sent me footage.”
“Of what?”
“Me using Lantern years ago.”
“Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
“Did you give him anything?”
“No.”
“But you stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
Everett looked away.
The pattern was nauseating.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone’s reason left Hadley alone.
Julian interrupted.
“I think I can recover the rest of Graham and Seraphina’s conversation.”
He played it.
Graham:
“Then stop asking nicely.”
Seraphina:
“You’re not the one living with her.”
Graham:
“I said pressure. I did not say hurt.”
Seraphina:
“You’re suddenly moral?”
Graham:
“If Everett sees what we’ve done—”
Seraphina laughed.
“He won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks the cameras are dead.”
Graham went silent.
Then:
“You shut off his access?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“My plan changed.”
Graham:
“What does that mean?”
Seraphina:
“I’m done taking orders from you.”
“Seraphina—”
“And I’m done waiting for Marcus.”
The recording ended.
Everett looked at Graham.
“She wasn’t working with you anymore.”
“No.”
“She wanted the escrow for herself?”
“I thought so.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Everett did.
At least partly.
If the escrow contained the Lantern evidence, whoever controlled it had leverage over everyone.
Marcus.
Graham.
Nolan.
Maybe Northstar.
Maybe Whitmore Capital.
Seraphina could sell it.
Destroy it.
Protect herself.
Or blackmail them all.
Then Doreen spoke.
“Hadley said something this morning.”
Everett turned.
“What?”
“She asked whether bad people can delete a person.”
The room went quiet.
“Why would she ask that?”
“She said Seraphina told her if she didn’t remember the rhyme, her mother would ‘disappear for real.’”
Everett felt rage burn through him.
Laurel was already dead.
What did “disappear for real” mean?
Delete videos?
Destroy memories?
Erase evidence?
He went upstairs.
Hadley was drawing.
He sat beside her.
“Doreen told me what Seraphina said about Mom.”
Hadley’s pencil stopped.
“She said Mom would disappear.”
“What did she mean?”
Hadley shrugged.
“She said there were videos.”
Everett’s pulse changed.
“What videos?”
“Of Mom.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t say.”
“What would happen to them?”
“She said if I didn’t help, she’d erase all of them.”
Everett closed his eyes.
For a child who had lost her mother at four, video could be priceless.
Seraphina had weaponized grief.
“Did she show you any?”
Hadley nodded.
Everett stared.
“What did you see?”
“Mom reading me a story.”
His throat tightened.
Hadley continued.
“And another one.”
“What?”
“Mom was talking to a man.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
Hadley thought.
“She said, ‘Everett can’t know until I know who betrayed him.’”
Everett went still.
“Where did Seraphina show you this?”
“On her laptop.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Did you notice anything on the screen? Words? Names?”
Hadley frowned.
“There was a moon.”
“A moon?”
“Like a little moon picture.”
Everett immediately called Julian.
The escrow service Laurel used might have a moon logo.
Julian searched.
Found one.
LUNAR VAULT DIGITAL ESCROW.
Everett stared.
Moonlight.
Laurel’s rhyme wasn’t only sentimental.
It was a breadcrumb.
Julian accessed the public login page.
Account recovery asked for three verbal phrases and a physical key.
They had two phrases.
Still missing the third.
Hadley sat beside Everett.
She saw the moon logo.
Her face changed.
“I’ve seen that.”
“Where?”
“Seraphina’s computer.”
Everett’s pulse jumped.
“She was logged in?”
Hadley nodded.
“What did it say?”
The girl thought carefully.
Then:
“Two of three.”
Everett went cold.
Seraphina already had the first two phrases.
She needed only the final one.
That was why the abuse had escalated.
Hadley had been the last locked door.
Then the mansion alarm sounded.
Not burglary.
Fire.
Smoke began pouring from the basement.
Julian ran toward the security room.
Someone had remotely triggered the recorder rack to overheat.
The camera archive—
Laurel’s logs—
May you like
everything—
was beginning to burn.
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