“I’m the only child.”
“That is a fact of birth, not a deed of ownership.”
Mr.
Mercer lowered his eyes to hide a reaction, but Julian saw it.
“Is this funny to you?” Julian demanded.
“No,” Mr.
Mercer said.
“It is serious enough that you should choose your next words carefully.”
Julian pushed back from the table.
“You think you can scare me with paperwork?”
I looked at the bruise darkening beneath the cuff of my sleeve.
“No.
I think paperwork is the only language you still respect.”
I nodded to Mr.
Vance.
He took a tablet from his briefcase and placed it on the table.
He turned the screen toward Julian and pressed play.
The recording began near the staircase.
Julian’s voice filled the dining room.
You owe them.
Then mine.
No.
You owe them.
On the screen, Julian crossed the room.
His arm moved.
My body disappeared from the camera’s upper frame and struck the marble below.
The sound of the impact was worse than I remembered.
No one at the table moved.
The video continued.
Julian walked down the stairs and crouched beside me.
Tomorrow you’ll call the bank.
His recorded face leaned toward mine.
Or next time, I won’t hold back.
Then came the final sentence.
You should’ve stayed useful, Mom.
Mr.
Vance stopped the recording.
Julian’s breathing had changed.
“That angle proves nothing.”
“It proves enough,” Mr.
Hale said.
“She fell.”
Mr.
Vance opened another section of the file and removed Dr.
Levin’s report.
“The bruising pattern is consistent with the impact shown in the recording.
Dr.
Levin documented it last night.”
Julian looked at my face as though searching for an ally who had disappeared.
“You went to the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“You told him I hit you?”
“I showed him.”
His voice dropped.
“So this is blackmail.”
“No,” Mr.
