The fall happened in less than two seconds. One moment, the mansion's main staircase was quiet, polished marble reflecting the soft glow of evening lights

The quiet of the midnight mansion shattered instantly.

Victoria gasped in shock as Elena’s hands closed around the red plastic casing. For a second, the two women wrestled in the dim moonlight of Ethan’s bedroom, bodies colliding against the edge of the study desk. Papers fluttered to the floor like wounded birds.

"Let go of me, you ungrateful thief!" Victoria hissed, her elegant facade completely disintegrating into raw, furious panic. She swung her free hand, her acrylic nails catching Elena’s cheek and leaving a hot, stinging scratch.

Elena didn't let go. Adrenaline surged through her veins, fueled by the memory of Ethan lying broken at the bottom of these very stairs. She wrenched the recorder downward with all her might. The white string snapped with a sharp twang, and the red plastic device flew out of Victoria’s grip, skidding across the wooden floor and disappearing into the dark shadows beneath Ethan’s wardrobe.

"Damn you!" Victoria snarled, lunging after it. But Elena was faster. She dropped to her knees, blindly sweeping her hand across the dusty floorboards underneath the heavy wooden furniture. Her fingers brushed against smooth plastic. She grabbed it, clutched it tightly to her chest, and scrambled backward.

Victoria stood up, breathing heavily, smoothing her emerald silk robe with trembling hands. The cold, calculated composure was back, but her eyes were wild with rage.

"You think you've won something, don't you?" Victoria whispered, her voice venomous. "Even if you have that toy, what does it prove? The battery is old. The speaker is muffled. Do you really think Richard will listen to a static-filled recording over the word of the woman he's supposed to marry next month?"

"I don't need Richard to listen to it," Elena said, standing up slowly, pressing the recorder safely into the deep pocket of her jacket. Her cheek burned where Victoria had scratched her, but her voice was steady. "I'll take it straight to the police. They can run audio enhancement. They can hear every single word you said to him before you pushed him."

Victoria’s face paled for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered, a dangerous glint entering her eyes. "Go ahead. Try leaving the house. But remember—the security gates are locked, the cameras are live-streamed to my phone, and by the time you reach the main road, I'll have Richard's private security team stop you for burglary."

Elena didn't wait to hear another word. She bolted toward the bedroom door, slipping past Victoria before the woman could grab her again.

Down the hallway she sprinted, her footsteps pounding against the hardwood. She bypassed the grand staircase—knowing it was too exposed—and headed straight for the rear service stairs used by the kitchen staff. Behind her, she heard Victoria’s sharp voice echoing down the corridor: "Security! Intruder in the house! Stop her!"

Sirens or alarms didn't go off—Victoria wanted to keep this quiet from the sleeping servants and avoid waking Richard just yet—but heavy footsteps echoed from the downstairs guard station. Two private security guards emerged into the kitchen hallway just as Elena reached the service door.

"Hey! Stop right there!" one guard shouted, shining a heavy flashlight beam directly into Elena’s eyes.

Blinded by the glare, Elena wrenched the service door open. The cool night air hit her face. She burst out into the courtyard, sprinting toward the low stone wall that separated the estate from the dense public woods bordering the property.

"Get her!" shouted the second guard.

Elena leaped against the stone wall, hoisting herself up with a burst of desperate energy. As she scrambled over the top, the rough stone scraped her palms, and a guard's hand grazed the hem of her jacket, but she threw herself forward, tumbling down into the soft moss and damp earth of the woods on the other side.

Branches whipped at her face as she ran blindly through the dark forest, guided only by the faint glow of the distant highway lights. Behind her, she heard the muffled shouts of the security guards fading into the distance. She didn't stop until her lungs burned and her legs felt like lead, finally collapsing behind a thick cluster of pine trees to catch her breath.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the red plastic recorder. It was scratched, dusty, but intact.

She pressed the play button.

Static hissed from the tiny speaker. Then, faint and muffled through the poor-quality microphone, a voice emerged from the past—Victoria’s voice, sharp and cruel.

“...give me that recorder right now, you little brat, or your father will know what you did...”

Followed by Ethan’s terrified squeak: “No! Leave me alone!”