Chapter 6 - The Nursery Camera.
For the next twenty-four hours, Connor resisted every impulse to confront his mother.
It was the hardest kind of restraint because Margaret kept acting normal.
She texted him twice about Lily.
She sent Amy a photo of a knitted blanket with the message, Thought this might be sweet for the baby.
Then she sent a group email reminding everyone that Sunday's brunch had been postponed due to "new-parent fatigue."
Amy read that line twice.
"She's already writing the public version of what happened."
Connor looked up from the board packet.
"What do you mean?"
"Not family conflict."
Amy held up her phone.
"New-parent fatigue."
Connor's mouth flattened.
He had spent the morning reading Westover Capital's proposal.
The deeper he went, the worse it looked.
The Ashford Hotel was profitable.
Its renovation debt was nearly paid off.
Occupancy was strong.
There was no obvious reason to sell it below valuation.
The proposed expansion Margaret claimed they needed cash for was barely described.
Four pages discussed the sale.
One paragraph mentioned the expansion.
The private advisory fee was buried in an appendix.
Amy sat beside him on the sofa while feeding Lily.
"Would the board normally approve something like this?"
"Not with this little information."
"Then why does your mother think she can?"
Connor looked at the voting list.
Margaret expected her own forty-five percent.
She expected Connor's proxy over his forty-five percent.
And she expected the ten percent descendant trust vote.
She did not need to persuade anyone if the forged paperwork stood.
"Because she thought she already had the votes."
At three in the afternoon, Nathan called again.
He had spoken with the company's technology director, a man named Ben Carver.
Ben had confirmed that Margaret's executive credentials were used to create the forged waiver file.
But the scan itself appeared to have originated from a home printer, not the office copier.
Connor immediately thought of the hospital folder.
Amy thought of the nursery camera.
They reviewed the footage again, this time frame by frame.
Margaret removed the folder at 2:11 p.m. Tuesday.
She returned it at 4:36 p.m.
Amy had not noticed because she had been asleep upstairs with Lily.
Between those times, Margaret had left the house once.
The front door camera showed her carrying a large cream tote bag.
She returned forty-eight minutes later.
"Where did she go?" Amy asked.
Connor checked the driveway camera.
Margaret's car never left.
That meant she had walked somewhere.
Their neighborhood was quiet and spread out.
There was only one nearby place she could reach easily on foot.
The Bradley family guesthouse.
It stood two properties away, behind a row of cedar trees.
Connor's father had used it as a home office during the last years of his life.
After he died, Margaret kept a key.
Connor had not been inside for months.
"The printer," he said.
Amy looked at him.
"Your dad's office?"
Connor nodded.
They drove there with Lily just before sunset.
Amy stayed in the car while Connor unlocked the guesthouse.
The building smelled faintly of cedar and old coffee.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
His father's books still lined one wall.
A framed photograph of the original Ashford Hotel hung above the desk.
Connor looked at it for a moment, then crossed to the printer.
The machine was newer than he remembered.
A stack of expensive white paper sat beneath it.
Connor opened the printer history menu.
The last scan had been made Tuesday at 3:02 p.m.
The file name was IMG_4471.
The document had been sent to an external email address.
Connor photographed the screen.
Then he checked the trash bin beside the desk.
It was empty.
Too empty.
The rest of the office had dust.
The trash liner was new.
Connor called Amy from inside.
"She was here."
"Can you prove it?"
"Maybe."
He searched the desk drawers.
Pens.
Stationery.
Old business cards.
Nothing else.
Then he noticed the small security monitor his father had installed years ago.
The guesthouse had one exterior camera facing the walkway.
Connor powered it on.
The storage drive was still connected.
He navigated to Tuesday.
At 2:27 p.m., Margaret appeared on screen carrying the cream tote bag.
At 3:15, she left.
The bag looked flatter.
Connor recorded the clip on his phone.
As he turned to leave, something under the desk caught his eye.
A single torn strip of paper.
He bent down and picked it up.
Only part of a sentence remained.
...temporary authorization shall remain effective through the completion of the Ashford transaction...
Connor felt a chill.
That language was not in the document Nathan had sent them.
There had been another version.
Maybe a draft.
Maybe a longer agreement.
He searched the desk again, more carefully.
Behind an old legal pad, he found an envelope with no name on it.
Inside was a photocopy of Lily's birth certificate application.
The copy had Amy's information highlighted in yellow.
Her full name.
Her date of birth.
Her former address.
Her Social Security number was partially visible on a related insurance page.
Connor closed his eyes for one second.
His mother had not just borrowed documents.
She had collected Amy's identifying information.
When he returned to the car, Amy saw his face and stopped asking questions.
He handed her the envelope.
She read the highlighted page in silence.
Then she looked toward the guesthouse.
"Connor, this isn't about your mother being controlling anymore."
"I know."
"She used my personal information."
"I know."
Amy placed the papers back into the envelope with deliberate care.
"Then we stop protecting her reputation."
Connor looked at his wife.
For the first time since the dinner, he felt something stronger than anger.
He felt certainty.
"Agreed."
As they pulled away, Connor's phone rang through the car speakers.
Margaret's name appeared on the dashboard.
He answered.
Her voice was perfectly composed.
"Connor, I need you to come to my office tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"Because I know you've been speaking with Nathan."
Connor glanced at Amy.
Margaret continued.
"And because if you keep pulling at things you do not understand, you may damage more than you can repair."
Connor looked in the rearview mirror at the guesthouse disappearing behind them.
"That's interesting."
May you like
"What is?"
"I was about to say the same thing to you."
