Chapter 9 - THE RECORDING THAT DESTROYED A DYNASTY
My mother hadn't died in an accident.
The words repeated inside my head until I could barely breathe.
For nineteen years, I'd believed the crash that killed Amina Brooks was simply another cruel tragedy.
Now Trent Mallory was telling me someone had arranged it.
Someone whose son had been my manager for more than two years.
I looked at Kareem.
He was staring at the phone with an expression I'd never seen before.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Grief.
"Nia," he said softly, "sit down."
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice trembled.
"I need to know what happened to my mother."
Trent spoke through the phone.
"The recording is stored in an old office safe. My father doesn't know I kept a copy."
"Why?" Kareem demanded.
"Because I knew someday I'd need proof."
Omar immediately contacted an attorney and the police.
Trent agreed to surrender the recording through investigators.
Two hours later, we sat in a private conference room with a detective.
The digital file began playing.
At first, there was only the sound of restaurant dishes.
Then Grandma's voice.
Older.
Firm.
Unmistakable.
"Victor, I know what you did."
My eyes filled with tears.
I hadn't heard her voice in three years.
Victor Mallory answered.
"Samira, you should have stayed away."
Grandma didn't hesitate.
"You killed my daughter."
Silence.
Then Victor laughed.
"Your daughter knew too much."
My hand flew to my mouth.
The recording continued.
"She found the accounts you used to move stolen money."
Victor's voice sharpened.
"She should have minded her own business."
Grandma answered:
"She was trying to protect her family."
"And look what happened."
I began shaking.
Kareem reached toward me but stopped, giving me space.
The recording continued.
Grandma said:
"You tried to kill Farid too."
Victor responded:
"Farid made a mistake when he challenged me."
Then he said the words that shattered my world.
"I arranged the explosion. I arranged the car crash. And if you keep asking questions, your granddaughter will be next."
The recording ended.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then I began crying.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
I cried the way I'd wanted to cry when Grandma died but had been too numb to understand my grief.
Kareem sat beside me.
He didn't offer excuses.
He didn't say everything would be fine.
He simply whispered:
"I'm so sorry, Nia."
I looked at him through tears.
"She knew."
He nodded.
"Your grandmother knew."
"She spent her whole life protecting me."
Kareem's eyes filled.
"Yes."
Then Omar entered.
His expression was tense.
"Sir, police have located Victor Mallory's residence."
Kareem stood.
"Good."
"But there's a problem."
"What?"
Omar hesitated.
"Victor left before officers arrived."
My stomach tightened.
"Where did he go?"
Omar looked directly at me.
"He took someone with him."
I froze.
"Who?"
May you like
Omar swallowed.
"Trent Mallory. His own son."
