Slowly, deliberately, Daniel reached down and peeled her fingers off his arm, one by one.
"Why wouldn't I check the footage, Maya?" Daniel asked softly. "If my father attacked you, that camera is your best friend. It will give the police absolute proof. It will put him in handcuffs before sunset."
Maya backed away two steps, her eyes darting toward the front entrance, then toward the side patio doors. "Because... because it's a family matter! If you call the police, the press will destroy the stock price! The board meeting tomorrow—you'll lose the chairman seat! I'm trying to protect you, Daniel!"
"I don't need your protection, Maya," Daniel said.
He turned his back on her, walked over to the dark oak media console beneath the eighty-inch television, and opened the brass-hinged door. Inside sat the black chassis of the security server, its green indicators blinking steadily in the dark cabinet. He picked up the sleek aluminium remote control sitting on top of the unit.
"Daniel, STOP!" Maya shrieked.
She sprinted across the marble floor, her high heels clicking like frantic gunfire. She lunged for his arm, her hands tearing at his shoulder to yank him away from the screen. "Don't do this! You're ruining us!"
Daniel didn't yell. He simply raised his left arm, blocking her momentum with an unyielding elbow, and pressed the primary power button on the remote.
The eighty-inch display flickered to life.
Chapter 3: The Frame-by-Frame Truth
The high-definition monitor swept through its boot sequence, showing the four-quadrant layout of the estate: the front gate, the rear gardens, the main foyer, and the primary living room.
Daniel raised the remote and double-tapped the quadrant labeled CAM-01: LIVING ROOM WEST.
The screen expanded, filling the display with a crystal-clear, 4K view of the exact room they were standing in. The audio stream burst through the room’s hidden surround-sound speakers—a crisp, high-fidelity playback of the ambient noise.
"No... please..." Maya whimpered. She didn't try to grab the remote again. Instead, she backed up until her hips struck the edge of the leather sofa, her knuckles pressing hard against her teeth.
Daniel hit the rewinding trigger.
On the screen, time reversed itself in rapid, surreal bursts:
-
Maya jumping into Daniel's arms sped backward.
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The high-pitched scream ran in reverse, like a bird whistle dragged through sand.
-
Maya stumbling back from the coffee table slid smoothly forward in reverse.
Daniel hit the button marked PLAY 1.0x at the timestamp labeled 16:42:10.
The room watched the screen in absolute silence.
On the monitor, the living room was serene. Samuel Vance was sitting comfortably on the leather couch, wearing his gold-rimmed reading glasses. Spread out across the glass table before him were spread-sheets and financial ledgers—not cash.
The front door opened on screen, and Maya walked into the room carrying a silver tray with two water glasses and the heavy crystal pitcher.
“Thank you, Maya,” Samuel’s recorded voice echoed from the ceiling speakers, warm and fatherly. “I appreciate you bringing this down.”
“It’s no problem, Samuel,” Maya’s recorded voice replied smoothly. She set the tray down. But she didn't leave. Instead, she reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a thick Manila envelope, and dropped a stack of uncirculated federal notes onto his open ledgers—fifty thousand dollars in cash.*