Chapter 5
The voice recording was crystal clear.
Marcus played it back in his office that afternoon.
He paused it right after Kevin said,
"You provoked him,
Alice."
Marcus shook his head in disbelief.
"He is practically handing us the case on a silver platter,"
he muttered.
"He admitted the assault happened.
He admitted his father did it.
He admitted his mother is spreading rumors."
Alice sat across from him,
sipping a glass of water.
"I told you he was stupid,"
she said.
"Arrogant and stupid is a dangerous combination."
"It’s a profitable combination for us,"
Marcus corrected.
He opened his laptop.
"I am filing the police report right now.
I am sending a detective to your parents' house to take your statement.
You will show them the bruise.
You will tell them Frank struck you.
You will tell them Kevin and Patricia were present."
"And the video?"
Alice asked.
"Not yet,"
Marcus reminded her.
"We let the police interview Frank.
We let him deny it.
We let him lie to a sworn officer."
Alice nodded.
She understood the game now.
Meanwhile,
across town,
Patricia was hard at work.
Alice’s phone was blowing up with notifications.
Friends from college.
Distant relatives.
Coworkers.
They were all sending her screenshots of Patricia’s latest posts.
Patricia had taken it to the next level.
She was posting vague,
passive-aggressive paragraphs about mental health.
She was suggesting Alice had suffered a psychotic break.
"It is so hard to watch someone you love lose their grip on reality,"
Patricia wrote.
"We welcomed her with open arms.
We gave her everything.
But some people are just deeply broken inside.
Please pray for my son during this terrifying time."
Alice read the post aloud to Marcus.
Marcus chuckled.
"Defamation,"
he noted,
writing it down on his legal pad.
"Libel.
We can add a civil suit against Patricia for damages to your professional reputation.
You are a VP of marketing.
Your public image is tied to your career."
Alice smiled.
"Take everything she has."
"I intend to,"
Marcus said.
"But first,
the police."
Two hours later,
a plainclothes detective sat in Alice’s parents’ living room.
Detective Miller was a quiet,
observant man.
He took photos of Alice’s face.
He documented the swelling.
He wrote down every detail of her statement.
"And your husband did not intervene?"
Miller asked,
his pen scratching against the notepad.
"No,"
Alice said softly.
"He told me I should have compromised to build peace."
Detective Miller looked up.
His eyes showed a flicker of disgust.
"I see,"
he said.
"I will be paying a visit to Frank and Patricia this evening.
I will ask them for their version of events."
Alice thanked him.
She walked him to the door.
As the detective’s car drove away,
Alice looked up at the sky.
May you like
The storm was coming.
And she was bringing the thunder.
