There it was.
Not regret.
Risk management.
I placed my phone on the counter and played a recording.
Vanessa’s cheerful voice filled the kitchen.
“Stop panicking, Emma. Sofia is always dramatic. We’re about to board a boat. Handle it yourself.”
The recording ended at 2:14 p.m.
Sofia died at 2:31.
All colour disappeared from Vanessa’s face.
“You recorded me?”
“You answered one call accidentally,” I said. “Seventeen minutes before your daughter died.”
Daniel reached for the phone.
I pulled it away.
His confidence did not truly collapse until I mentioned the money.
Their holiday had not been paid for from Daniel’s personal account.
It had been charged to Northbridge Relief, the medical charity my father established after Sofia’s first heart operation.
Vanessa served as executive director.
Daniel managed the finances.
Over nine months, forty-eight thousand dollars had disappeared through false consulting invoices.
The flights, resort, jewellery, and private boat were merely the latest expenses.
