The Recording
Chapter 10 - The Recording
The recording began with a board call.
Muffled voices. Eduardo’s clipped replies. The scrape of his hand against the bench. Nothing useful at first. Then the call ended. Silence. Footsteps. Victor’s voice entering the foyer.
Clara did not play the whole file loudly. She held the phone at a respectful volume, enough for the people in the room to hear, not enough to turn Sofia’s fear into spectacle.
Victor’s recorded voice was smooth.
“You are making this harder than it needs to be, Eduardo.”
Eduardo’s recorded voice answered, tired and irritated.
“I said no.”
“You said no because Clara has trained you to confuse help with control.”
“She is my wife.”
“She is your weakness.”
Clara’s face did not change, but Sofia moved closer to her.
The recording continued.
A faint wheel sound.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then Victor again, farther from the phone now: “Pride is predictable. After the fall, you’ll understand why authority must transfer.”
The foyer froze.
Victor whispered, “That is edited.”
Eduardo’s eyes lifted.
“No,” he said. “That is you.”
The recording played one more sound.
The front doors closing after Victor left.
Then, minutes later, Eduardo’s fall. His strained voice snapping, “Don’t touch me.” Clara arriving. Her low sentence: your chair didn’t roll there by itself.
Clara stopped the recording.
No one spoke.
Victor’s face had gone gray beneath its polish.
Eduardo looked at him with something colder than rage.
“You didn’t want me dead,” he said. “You wanted me ashamed.”
Victor swallowed.
May you like
Eduardo leaned forward slightly.
“That was your mistake.”
