Chapter 6: The Man in the Red Tie
Aunt Celia was still holding my hand when Nora finished speaking.
“She already had a plan to make sure nobody believed you.””
I stared at the phone.
For years, Corisande had controlled what other people knew about me. She decided which stories my father heard, which relatives I saw, and which version of my childhood the outside world was allowed to believe.
But hearing that she had planned for me to speak out—and had prepared to destroy my credibility before I ever did—made everything feel different.
It meant that even the truth had been something she was trying to control.
“What exactly did the recording show?”” I asked.
Nora hesitated.
“I only watched a portion of it. I recognized the voices, and I immediately contacted Dana. I didn't want to risk damaging the original file.””
“Who was the man?””
“I believe his name is Julian Mercer.””
I knew that name.
Julian was a lawyer who had handled several of my father's business transactions. He was also a familiar face at Corisande's charity events, always standing near the people who donated the largest amounts.
He wore tailored suits, silver-framed glasses, and the sort of polite expression that made it difficult to imagine him saying anything cruel.
“He was at the party,” I said.
“He was standing beside the staircase.””
“Yes.””
“He smiled at me.””
Nora's expression tightened.
“Some people are very good at smiling while doing terrible things.””
Aunt Celia took my phone and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“We're not going to investigate this ourselves,” she said.
“Dana needs to handle it.””
“I know.””
“And you are not going back to that mansion alone.””
“I know, Aunt Celia.””
She brushed my hair away from my forehead.
“I'm sorry. I know I keep saying it, but I need you to understand something. You don't have to prove you're brave by putting yourself in danger.””
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the harbor was gray beneath a low ceiling of clouds.
“I spent years being afraid,” I whispered.
“I just don't want to be afraid anymore.””
“You don't have to be,” she said.
“Not alone.””
That afternoon, Dana arranged a meeting with the police and asked Nora to bring the original recordings and her notebook.
My father arrived at Aunt Celia's house shortly afterward.
He looked as though he hadn't slept.
His tie was loosened, and the collar of his white shirt was crumpled. He carried a folder thick with documents.
“I spoke with our family accountant,” he said as he entered the kitchen.
“There are records I need to go through, but first, Dana told me there was another recording.””
I nodded.
“It's from the study.””
His jaw tightened.
“Then we'll find out what's on it.””
He looked at me, and something in his expression changed.
“Only if you're comfortable with that, Mara. You don't have to sit through it.””
I appreciated the offer.
But I needed to understand how far Corisande had gone.
“I want to know.””
An hour later, Dana arrived with Detective Hannah Reed, a woman with short brown hair and a calm, observant manner. Nora handed over the recording device and explained how she had preserved the footage.
Detective Reed confirmed that the original files would be copied and documented before anyone reviewed them in detail.
“We need to establish when these recordings were made, whether they've been altered, and who had access to the security system,” she explained.
“We won't assume that a recording proves everything by itself, but it can direct us toward evidence we might otherwise miss.””
She turned on the laptop.
The first few seconds showed my father's study on the afternoon before the celebration.
A clock on the wall read 4:17.
Corisande entered the frame wearing a cream blouse and black trousers. She placed a thick document folder on the desk.
A minute later, Julian Mercer walked into the room.
He carried a leather briefcase.
My heart began to race.
On the screen, he glanced toward the hallway.
“Are we certain nobody can hear us?”” he asked.
Corisande shut the door.
“The housekeeper is gone. Daniel is in Boston. Mara is upstairs.””
Julian placed his briefcase on the desk.
“And the school?””
“Handled.””
He removed several papers.
“I'm not comfortable with the wording in this report,” he said.
“It makes specific allegations that haven't been independently verified.””
Corisande crossed her arms.
“You told me you could help.””
“I can advise you on the legal process. I cannot manufacture evidence.””
She leaned across the desk.
“Don't become difficult now, Julian. You're the one who explained that a pattern of behavioral problems could justify an alternative placement.””
“An alternative placement isn't the same thing as having a child declared unstable.””
“Then choose your words more carefully.””
Julian glanced at the papers.
“What exactly do you want from me?””
Corisande smiled.
It was the same smile she used when accepting compliments about her foundation.
“I want Mara somewhere she cannot interfere with my family.””
My father's fingers tightened around the arm of his chair.
On the screen, Julian removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“She's fourteen. If the school files another safeguarding report, your previous explanation won't be enough.””
“Then she won't file another one.””
“What makes you so certain?””
Corisande walked to the window.
“Because I've spent six years teaching that girl what happens when she disobeys me.””
The room where we watched the recording became unbearably quiet.
Even Detective Reed looked away from the screen for a moment.
Julian stared at Corisande.
“You need to be careful.””
“I have been careful.””
“You've been careless enough to leave bruises.””
My father made a broken sound in his throat.
Corisande turned around.
“She bruises easily.””
“That isn't what I'm talking about.””
“Then what are you talking about?””
Julian put his glasses back on.
“Your husband has started asking questions. The school report was supposed to settle the matter. Instead, he noticed the signature discrepancy.””
I looked at my father.
He shook his head slowly.
“I never saw this conversation,” he whispered.
On the screen, Corisande opened a drawer.
She removed a sheet of paper and placed it in front of Julian.
“He will stop asking questions when he sees how much damage another investigation could do to his business.””
Julian read the document.
“Is this your proposed statement?””
“Yes.””
He looked up.
“You're describing a violent episode that hasn't happened.””
Corisande's face hardened.
“Not yet.””
My stomach dropped.
“What does she mean?”” I whispered.
Nobody answered immediately.
The recording continued.
Julian pushed the paper away.
“Whatever you intend to do, don't ask me to testify that it happened if it didn't.””
“I'm asking you to prepare for the possibility that Mara may have another episode.””
“And if she doesn't?””
Corisande's voice lowered.
“Then I'll find another way.””
She leaned toward him.
“Have you ever wondered why people believe me, Julian? Because I never give them a reason to look at anything else.””
The recording ended.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then my father stood.
He walked to the window and pressed his hands against the frame.
“Oh, God.””
Detective Reed paused the video.
“Mr. Hart, we need to clarify something. Did you authorize anyone to prepare a statement describing Mara as violent or emotionally unstable?””
“No.””
“Did you sign the report submitted to her school?””
“No. I told the school I wanted to understand what was happening, but I never signed that document.””
“Did you authorize a residential placement?””
My father turned.
“No.””
He looked at me, his face stricken.
“I never would have sent you away.””
I wanted to believe that, too.
But I had heard him tell Corisande that I was difficult. I had seen him trust her explanations when I was begging for help.
“I don't know what you would have done,” I said quietly.
He nodded as if he deserved the answer.
Detective Reed resumed the recording.
Julian picked up his briefcase.
Before leaving, he said something that made Corisande stop smiling.
“If this comes out, you cannot claim I invented the strategy.””
She stepped close to him.
“Then make sure it doesn't come out.””
He opened the door.
Corisande called after him.
“And Julian? The dinner tomorrow is going to be very useful. Everyone important will be there.””
He paused.
“What are you planning?””
She looked toward the staircase.
For a moment, she seemed to be looking directly at me.
“I'm going to make sure people see exactly what kind of girl she is.””
The video ended.
My aunt put her arm around me.
Detective Reed closed the laptop.
“We'll need to locate Mr. Mercer and obtain the relevant files. We'll also need the unedited recordings from the party.””
My father turned from the window.
“What happens now?””
“We investigate the suspected abuse, the school report, and the preparation of a potentially false statement. We'll assess whether any crimes have been committed and take appropriate steps to protect Mara.””
I looked at the frozen image on the laptop.
Corisande had known I was suffering.
She had known I was afraid.
And she had planned to use my fear against me.
Then Detective Reed's phone rang.
She listened for a few moments, her expression becoming increasingly serious.
When she hung up, she looked at my father.
“Mr. Hart, Mr. Mercer has contacted the police.””
“Why?””
“He says he has information about your wife.””
She glanced at me.
“And he wants to make a statement before we question him about the recording.””
For the first time, I wondered whether Julian was afraid of Corisande, too.
Or whether he had finally realized that the woman he'd been helping could destroy him as easily as she'd destroyed me.
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Either way, one thing was certain.
The man in the red tie was no longer smiling.
