Chapter 3 - The Secret on the Screen
While Rachel focused entirely on soothing her terrified son, a young college student working part-time as the event videographer stared down at the monitor of his stationary tripod camera near the garden hedge. His face had gone completely white.
Ten minutes earlier, before Rachel had opened the patio door, the camera had been pointed directly at the outdoor seating area where Mason and Vanessa had cornered little Ethan. The audio feed, picking up the clip-on microphone left on the nearby podium, had recorded every single word of the cruel exchange.
The student—whose name was Leo—pressed play on the raw playback file, his fingers shaking.
Through the small monitor, the audio blared across the quiet patio before Leo could scramble to turn down the volume:
“Pour the rest of the cold soup over his head, Vanessa,” Mason’s voice sneered clearly through the recording. “Let the bastard brat know his place. Once my brother signs the corporate transfer papers tonight, this entire estate belongs to us anyway. We won’t need these gutter-rats cluttering up the hallways.”
“Do you think David suspects anything?” Vanessa’s voice replied, laughing coldly as she dumped the bowl over Ethan’s hair.
“David is too busy drinking champagne and kissing up to the board members to notice his own son,” Mason scoffed. “Keep filming. I want this sent to the family group chat as a reminder of who runs this dynasty.”
The entire patio heard the recording echo from the camera’s built-in speakers.
The guests who had been recording on their phones slowly lowered their devices. Whispers erupted like wildfire. David—Rachel’s husband, and Mason’s older brother—stumbled backward out of the French doors, his face completely drained of color. David had spent the last hour mingling with investors, entirely unaware of the venom festering just outside.
David froze, his hazel eyes locking onto his brother Mason, who was just now struggling to his feet from the wreckage of the buffet table.
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"Mason... what did you just say?" David’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the terrifying weight of an impending avalanche.
Mason wiped a smear of potato salad off his designer suit jacket, trying to flash an arrogant, dismissive smirk. "Come on, David. Kids play rough. It was just a joke! A little family hazing to toughen the boy up for the corporate world!"
