Chapter 2: Thirty Years of Favoritism
Chapter 2: Thirty Years of Favoritism
The following morning, Sophie was resting in the children's hospital with seven stitches across her scalp.
I hadn't slept.
Detective Angela Morris arrived carrying a tablet.
"We've secured the hotel's recordings," she said.
"But before we review them..."
She looked at me carefully.
"I need to ask something."
"Has your brother ever been protected by your parents before?"
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the question described my entire childhood.
"When Preston was fifteen, he crashed my father's Mercedes."
I swallowed.
"They blamed me."
"When he cheated in college..."
"My parents paid the professor."
"When he lost nearly two hundred thousand dollars gambling..."
"They refinanced their home."
"And when he convinced investors to fund a business that never existed..."
"They called it 'bad luck.'"
Detective Morris quietly took notes.
"So this pattern has existed for decades."
"It never mattered what Preston did."
"It only mattered who could be blamed instead."
An hour later we entered the hotel's security office.
My parents were already there.
Preston sat beside his attorney, trying to appear relaxed.
The technician loaded Camera Seven.
The footage showed the reception exactly as everyone remembered.
Then Camera Nine appeared.
A different angle.
Hidden behind decorative flowers.
The technician pressed play.
There was Sophie sitting quietly beside me.
There was Preston standing near the head table.
Then...
The entire room watched him glance around to make sure no one was looking.
He reached into his jacket.
Pulled out his titanium iPhone.
Walked casually behind Sophie's chair.
Slipped the phone into the pocket of her tiny denim jacket.
Then returned to the microphone.
Thirty-eight seconds later...
He announced that his phone had been stolen.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.
My mother covered her mouth.
My father's shoulders collapsed.
But the video wasn't finished.
Camera Eleven activated.
Everyone watched Preston grab the heavy oak menu board with both hands.
Then, with deliberate force...
He swung it directly into the side of an eight-year-old girl's head.
Not an accident.
Not self-defense.
A full, intentional strike.
May you like
The detective quietly paused the recording.
"I believe," she said, "we've just watched multiple felonies."
