Chapter 2 - The Other Three Videos Were WorseConrad didn't drive directly home.
Every part of him wanted to.
He wanted to walk into the house, pull Wren into his arms, and order Maureen out before she could say another word.
But Marisol's warning stopped him.
Wren is afraid to tell you the truth.
Why?
That question mattered.
Conrad called Marisol from the parking garage exit.
She answered in a whisper.
"Mr. Whitaker."
"Where is Wren?"
"In her room."
"Where is my mother?"
"Downstairs."
"Is Wren safe right now?"
"Yes."
"If that changes, you call 911."
"I will."
Conrad gripped the wheel.
"Marisol, why didn't you tell me?"
Silence.
Then:
"I tried."
"When?"
"Five weeks ago."
Conrad frowned.
"You told me Maureen was being strict."
"I said Wren seemed afraid of her."
"I thought you meant normal discipline."
"I know."
He hated how defensive that sounded.
Marisol continued.
"The next morning your mother told me I was overstepping."
"She knew you spoke to me?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know."
Conrad remembered breakfast.
He had casually asked Maureen whether Wren was having trouble adjusting to school.
His mother smiled and said Marisol was "too sensitive."
He believed her.
That memory now felt poisonous.
"What happened after that?"
"A housekeeper named Denise saw your mother lock Wren in the pantry."
Conrad's knuckles whitened.
"Denise?"
"She worked here temporarily."
"I remember."
"She told Maureen she would tell you."
"And?"
"Maureen fired her before you came home."
Conrad's stomach dropped.
"She told me Denise stole."
"I know."
"Did she?"
"No."
Conrad shut his eyes for one second.
Another lie.
Another moment he'd accepted without questioning.
"Why didn't Denise contact me?"
"Maureen told her the family attorneys would accuse her of theft."
Conrad's jaw tightened.
His mother used his money.
His company.
His reputation.
His lawyers.
All without him knowing.
Marisol continued.
"That's when I decided I needed proof."
"So you recorded her."
"Yes."
"How many times?"
"Four."
"The four you sent?"
"Yes."
"No others?"
"No."
"Why today?"
Marisol became quiet.
"Because it got worse."
The words terrified him.
"What happened before the bathroom?"
"Wren spilled cranberry juice on the upstairs rug."
"That's it?"
"That's what started it."
"Started what?"
"Your mother said Wren had done it deliberately because she hated her."
Conrad almost shouted.
"She's eight."
"I know."
"Then?"
"Maureen made her clean it. Wren tried. Your mother said she was doing it wrong."
"And the water?"
"She said if Wren wanted to behave like a baby, she'd treat her like one who couldn't clean herself."
Conrad's breathing became heavy.
"Did she hurt her physically?"
"Not that I saw beyond handling her roughly."
"Any bruises?"
"I haven't seen any."
He felt relief.
Then shame for feeling relief.
Emotional cruelty wasn't acceptable simply because it hadn't left visible marks.
"Marisol."
"Yes?"
"The key."
Silence.
"What key?"
"I don't know."
"You heard her ask about it."
"Several times."
Conrad stopped at a red light.
"Several?"
"Yes."
"Why isn't that in the videos?"
"The first times happened before I started recording."
"What does she say?"
"Usually something about Mrs. Whitaker."
Elise.
Conrad's chest tightened.
"Be specific."
Marisol hesitated.
"Your mother asks what Elise told Wren before she died."
"Wren was five."
"I know."
"She barely remembers that year."
"Maybe."
Conrad noticed the tone.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"One time Wren said she remembered a blue bird."
"A what?"
"A blue bird."
Conrad frowned.
"Maureen became very angry."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Anything else?"
"She asked about a silver key."
Conrad remembered the first video.
Elise's necklace.
A small silver oval pendant.
He had given it to Elise on their first wedding anniversary.
After Elise died, Wren wore it sometimes.
He hadn't seen it recently.
"Is Wren still wearing her mother's necklace?"
"No."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Did Maureen take it?"
"I think she tried."
Conrad's phone buzzed at the next light.
A message from Maureen.
Are you coming home for dinner? Wren has been difficult today.
Conrad stared.
Difficult.
His daughter was upstairs soaked and crying.
His mother was texting about dinner.
He typed nothing.
Marisol whispered:
"Mr. Whitaker?"
"I'm here."
"There's something else."
"What?"
"After the bathroom, Maureen called someone."
"Who?"
"I only heard part."
"What did she say?"
Marisol lowered her voice further.
"She said, 'The girl still won't tell me where Elise put it.'"
Conrad's heartbeat changed.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"She said, 'If Conrad finds the original before I do, everything changes.'"
The traffic light turned green.
Cars honked behind him.
Conrad didn't move.
Original.
Not a memory.
Not a necklace.
Something physical.
A document?
A will?
A letter?
He drove through the intersection.
"Marisol."
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Wren I'm coming."
"Why?"
"Because I need to see how my mother behaves when she thinks I'm still at work."
Twenty minutes later, Conrad turned onto his own street.
He parked two houses away.
Entered through the side garden instead of the driveway.
The kitchen door had a keypad.
He used it silently.
Marisol saw him first.
Her face went pale.
He raised one finger.
Quiet.
Then he heard laughter from the living room.
Maureen's laughter.
Conrad stepped closer.
His mother sat on the sofa.
Wren sat beside her.
Dry now.
Hair brushed.
Fresh dress.
Maureen held one arm around her shoulders.
Anyone walking into the room would have seen a loving grandmother and granddaughter.
Then Maureen heard Conrad.
She turned.
Her expression didn't change at all.
"You're home early."
Wren looked up.
For one second, relief flooded her face.
Then fear replaced it.
And Conrad understood the most frightening part.
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His daughter wasn't afraid that Maureen would hurt her while he was there.
She was afraid of what would happen after he believed Maureen instead of her.
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