Chapter 8 - THE RECORDING
The ballroom was a sea of applause as Eleanor Carter took the stage. The spotlights hit her perfectly, highlighting the diamonds at her throat. Sebastian sat at the head table, his jaw clenched, refusing to look at Olivia who sat beside him.
I stood in the shadows near the soundboard at the back of the room. The AV kid looked at me nervously. I gave him a curt nod.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," Eleanor’s voice boomed through the massive speakers, smooth and practiced. "Tonight is about truth. It is about family. The Carter Foundation is built on the bedrock of integrity, and we are so proud to support the children of this beautiful city—"
"Now," I whispered to the tech.
He flipped the switch.
Eleanor's microphone cut out. For a second, the room fell into a confused silence. People murmured, looking around. Eleanor tapped her microphone in annoyance.
Then, a new voice echoed through the ballroom. It wasn't live. It was crackly, slightly distorted by age and telephone static, but it was unmistakably clear.
“Yes, hello? This is Hannah Carter’s room. No, no, she cannot come to the phone. She is currently unconscious.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room. At the head table, Olivia shot up from her chair, her face turning ashen. It was her voice echoing through the speakers.
“I don't care if her husband is calling. You do not put him through. In fact, cancel this extension. I have her cell phone right here... yes, I'm deleting the voicemails now.”
Sebastian froze. He slowly turned his head to look at Olivia.
The recording continued, merciless and damning. Another voice joined the audio. Eleanor.
“Did you clear the phone, Olivia?”
“Yes, Eleanor. All messages from Sebastian are gone. I intercepted the mail as well. The ultrasound photos are in the shredder.”
“Good. The lawyer is drawing up the NDA now. We will tell Sebastian she miscarried and suffered a mental break. She’ll be gone by morning, and you will step in to comfort him. The Bennett-Carter merger will proceed as planned.”
The silence in the ballroom was deafening. You could hear a pin drop. Hundreds of the most influential people in Chicago sat frozen in shock.
On stage, Eleanor looked like she was going to faint. She gripped the podium, her knuckles white, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Turn that off!" she shrieked, all elegance completely abandoned. "Turn it off immediately!"
But the recording had finished.
Sebastian stood up. He didn't yell. He didn't throw anything. The quiet, deadly calm radiating from him was far more terrifying. He looked at Olivia, who was trembling violently, tears streaming down her face.
"Sebastian, please," Olivia whimpered, reaching out to touch his arm. "She manipulated us. We... we did it for you! For your future!"
Sebastian didn't even blink. He shrugged her hand off as if she were made of toxic waste. He turned his gaze to the stage, locking eyes with his mother.
"You told me my children were dead," he said, his voice echoing in the silent room without a microphone. It was laced with absolute heartbreak and pure venom. "You let me mourn for five years."
He took the diamond engagement ring off his finger—a matching piece to Olivia's—and dropped it onto the table. The clatter of the metal hitting the fine china rang out like a gunshot.
"You're done, Mother," Sebastian said, his voice carrying over the stunned crowd. "The foundation, the board, the company. You're out. And if you ever come near my family again, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your life behind bars."
He turned his back on them and walked purposefully through the crowd, parting the sea of shocked aristocrats. He walked straight toward the back of the room, straight toward me.
May you like
When he reached me, he didn't say a word. He just reached out, took my hand, and intertwined our fingers. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like the weight of the world shifting.
"Let's go home," he whispered.
