Chapter 10 - The Video from the Grave
The eighty-inch digital screen on the boardroom wall flickered to life. But instead of displaying a standard, formal corporate video of me sitting at my desk reading a last will and testament, the screen filled with crisp, high-definition, black-and-white infrared surveillance footage.
The timestamp in the upper right corner of the screen read: SUNDAY, JULY 26 - 11:45 PM.
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He recognized the camera angle instantly—it was a wide, elevated shot looking directly down the length of the primary cliffside terrace of the mansion.
On the screen, two figures moved into the frame: Julian and myself. The audio, captured by high-gain directional microphones concealed in the terrace lighting fixtures, piped through the boardroom’s surround-sound speakers with terrifying clarity.
The bankers and executives sat frozen in absolute shock as they watched Julian grab my eight-month-pregnant body by the shoulders. They heard my recorded voice pleading: “Julian, please, don't do this! What about our baby?!”
Then came Julian’s recorded response, cold, sadistic, and echoing off the mahogany walls of the boardroom: “The baby is just a complication, Victoria. I don't need a family; I need your balance sheet. Say hello to the rocks for me.”
On the screen, Julian shoved me with his full force against the stone balustrade. The board members let out a collective, horrified gasp as they watched my body flip over the railing and disappear into the dark abyss below.
“Turn that off!” Julian screamed, his face turning the color of wet ash as he lunged toward the wall screen, frantically trying to find a power switch. “That’s a fake! That’s AI-generated video! She doctored that footage to frame me! Turn it off right now!”
“Sit down, Mr. Vance,” Elena commanded, her voice dropping into a lethal, commanding register that stopped him mid-stride. She pressed a button on the remote, fast-forwarding the video by two minutes.
The screen shifted to show Chloe Mercer stepping out onto the terrace in her emerald silk gown, standing beside Julian at the railing. The audio played Chloe’s chilling words: “The fortune is ours now... Once you file the statutory death certificate, we override the biometric protocols and drain the treasury clean.”
In the corner of the room, Chloe let out a high-pitched, hysterical whimper, shrinking back against the bookshelves as the chairman of Continental Trust stared at her with utter, absolute revulsion.
“My God,” Mr. Henderson whispered, his face pale as he looked at Julian. “You didn't lose your wife in an accident. You murdered her. You pushed an eight-month-pregnant woman off a cliff to steal her company.”
“It’s a lie! I want my lawyer!” Julian shouted, backing away toward the double doors, his eyes wild with the trapped, desperate terror of a cornered animal. “You can't prove anything! You don't have a body! Without a body, this is just circumstantial digital evidence! I am leaving this building right now!”
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He reached for the brass handles of the boardroom doors, intending to shove past the two corporate security guards and flee the estate.
Before his shaking fingers could even touch the metal, the heavy oak doors unlocked from the outside and swung smoothly open.
