Chapter 9 - The Ghost in the Audio
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Grant took the silver cassette tape from the shoebox and slid it into an old dictation machine that sat on Julian’s side credenza.
He pressed the play button with a firm click.
The faint hiss of static filled the quiet room for three long seconds.
Then, a voice emerged from the small speaker.
It was frail, raspy, and filled with deep exhaustion.
Grant’s breath caught in his throat.
It was the voice of Charles Holloway, recorded only months before his death seven years ago.
“Julian, are you listening to me?” the old man’s voice wheezed over the audio track.
“I’m listening, Uncle Charles,” Julian’s recorded voice replied, cold and detached.
“The girl… Rebecca’s daughter,” Charles begged, the sound of a hospital heart monitor beeping rhythmically in the background.
“She has my blood, Julian.”
“I made a terrible mistake twenty years ago listening to you and Richard.”
“I should have stood by her.”
“I should have let Grant know he had a sister.”
There was a long silence on the recording, followed by the faint rustling of medical sheets.
“You don't need to worry about them, Uncle,” Julian’s smooth voice replied on the tape.
“I am handling the Carter situation personally.”
“No, you don't understand!” Charles cried out, coughing violently.
“I updated my personal trust document with my private notary yesterday morning.”
“Thirty percent of the voting shares in the parent holding company belong to her.”
“To Mia.”
“If Grant ever finds out, he will honor it.”
“Promise me you will give her the envelope, Julian.”
“Promise me on our family name!”
Julian’s voice chuckled softly on the recording, a sound so devoid of warmth that chills ran down my spine.
“Of course, Uncle Charles,” Julian lied effortlessly.
“Sleep now.”
“The family name is completely safe with me.”
The audio ended with a sharp metallic click.
Silence flooded the office once more.
Mia was crying softly, her head resting against Grant’s shoulder.
Grant’s arm was wrapped tightly around his sister, holding her with protective tenderness.
“He didn't hate us,” Mia whispered through her tears.
“He was weak, and he was terrified, but he didn't forget me.”
Grant kissed the top of Mia’s head, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.
“He wanted you to have your rightful place, Mia,” Grant said softly.
“And Julian buried it in a safe so he could keep playing king with our lives.”
Grant looked up at Richard Monroe, who was staring at the floor in profound shame.
“Where is Julian right now, Richard?” Grant asked.
Richard looked at his gold watch.
It was four-fifteen in the morning.
“He’s at his penthouse on Fifth Avenue,” Richard answered.
“He called an emergency meeting of the Board of Directors for seven o'clock this morning at the corporate headquarters.”
“He’s going to use the Monroe shares to vote for your immediate suspension as Chief Executive Officer.”
Grant slowly stood up to his full height.
The grief and sorrow in his eyes had transformed into ruthless, calculating focus.
“He called a board meeting at seven?” Grant asked, a cold smile touching the corner of his lips.
“Yes,” Richard replied nervously.
“Good,” Grant said, looking over at me.
“Rachel, make thirty copies of every check, every ledger page, and this audio recording.”
“Mia, go into the executive dressing room and pick out the finest tailored suit in the closet.”
Mia looked surprised.
“A suit? For what?”
May you like
Grant looked at his sister with fierce pride.
“Because at seven o'clock this morning, the newest owner of Holloway Enterprises is going to attend her very first board meeting.”
