Chapter 3 - The Video Proof
The video began playing with full audio amplification through the ballroom sound system.
The footage showed Aunt Evelyn standing over Clara in the grand kitchen two weeks ago. Evelyn was slapping a stack of dirty linens against Clara’s chest while Clara trembled, pleading that she was feeling dizzy from a migraine.
"You listen to me, you pathetic little orphan," Evelyn’s recorded voice shrieked through the speakers, echoing off the high ceilings. "You were nothing before Julian felt pity on you! You live in this mansion on our family's sufferance! If you don't clean every single bathroom in this house before sunrise, I will make sure Julian throws you back onto the street where he found you!"
The scene shifted to another clip from three days prior.
Uncle Richard was seen forcing open my private study safe—using a code he had coerced out of a terrified junior housekeeper—and pocketing stacks of bearer bonds and three vintage Rolex watches. Beside him, my sister Sienna was laughing, picking through Clara’s personal jewelry box and trying on her emerald earrings.
"Julian has so much money he won't even notice," Sienna’s voice recorded clearly. "Besides, that plain little mouse doesn't deserve diamonds anyway."
In the ballroom, Sienna dropped to her knees, burst into hysterical tears. "Julian! I'm sorry! Mom made me do it! They said it was our family's money!"
Aunt Evelyn’s face was completely contorted in sheer panic as the rest of the relatives began whispering among themselves, trying to distance themselves from the horrific evidence flashing across the screen.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Aunt Evelyn screamed, lunging toward the projector console, but Marcus instantly stepped into her path, towering over her like a wall of steel.
"Over the past three months while I was expanding our logistics empire in Europe," I said, my voice ice-cold as I turned off the screen, "you have stolen four point two million dollars in cash, art, and securities from my private vault. You have physically battered, emotionally tortured, and illegally confined my wife inside her own home."
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"Julian... we are your family!" Uncle Richard begged, his hands trembling as he fell to his knees beside his daughter. "You can't do this to us! What will the press say if you drag your own uncle to court?!"
"Court?" I laughed—a short, dark, humorless sound that sent shivers down every spine in the room. "Richard, you think I called the police?"
