Chapter 3 - The Party Above the Basement
The basement went almost black.
I wedged myself behind steel shelving filled with paint cans, holiday decorations, and unopened boxes from Wyatt’s old office.
My phone was already in my hand.
I opened the camera.
Pressed record.
A thin strip of light appeared beneath the basement door.
Then came the sound of heels descending.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Whoever was coming had no fear of being discovered.
That told me almost as much as Wyatt’s chain.
Sabrina entered carrying a plate of cold rice.
The woman I had welcomed into my family looked completely different downstairs.
Not physically.
That was what made it worse.
Same elegant dress.
Same diamond earrings.
Same careful makeup.
Same woman who had sent me birthday cards signed Love, Sabrina.
But the warmth had vanished from her face.
She set the plate on a crate.
“Still stubborn?”
Wyatt said nothing.
She crouched.
“You know, everyone upstairs keeps asking where you are.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That my poor husband is resting.”
She smiled.
“Aren’t I thoughtful?”
Wyatt looked toward the floor.
Sabrina removed folded papers from a small clutch.
“Last chance, sweetheart. Sign tonight, and this ends.”
“I’m not signing.”
Her smile disappeared.
She pressed her heel against his injured knee.
Wyatt cried out.
I nearly came out from behind the shelf.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to stop her.
But Wyatt had said they intended to make his death look accidental.
If I rushed forward with nothing but anger, Victor could claim I attacked Sabrina.
They could destroy evidence.
They might have accomplices upstairs.
I needed proof.
So I remained where I was.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done.
Sabrina leaned closer.
“Then we keep practicing until your hand finally learns how to obey.”
Wyatt breathed through the pain.
“You’ll never own Heartland.”
“I don’t need Heartland.”
That sentence caught my attention.
She tapped the document against his chest.
“I need what belongs to you.”
“You don’t even know what belongs to me.”
Her expression sharpened.
“Victor knows.”
There it was.
Victor.
Not merely Sabrina acting alone.
A plan.
She continued.
“Once you sign power of attorney, the transfers begin tomorrow. The holding companies go first. Then your investment accounts. Then the warehouse interests.”
Wyatt gave a tired laugh.
“You think Dad won’t notice?”
“Your father?”
She laughed.
“Your father drives a truck that should be condemned.”
I almost smiled.
Wyatt didn’t.
“You don’t know him.”
“Oh, I know Abraham. Proud old man. Talks about hard work. Probably has eighty grand hidden in a retirement account and thinks it makes him Rockefeller.”
She stood.
“When you’re gone, I’ll give him a nice funeral speech.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Wyatt looked at her.
“You won’t get away with this.”
Sabrina tilted her head.
“Look upstairs.”
Music boomed.
“Forty-three witnesses will say you were unstable.”
She gestured toward his arms.
“They’ll say you were using drugs.”
She pointed toward the basement.
“They’ll say you locked yourself down here during a breakdown.”
Wyatt stared at her.
“And the chain?”
“Gone before paramedics arrive.”
“What about my knee?”
“You fell.”
“Repeatedly?”
“You were intoxicated.”
She smiled again.
“People believe whatever story is easiest.”
Then Victor called from upstairs.
“Sabrina!”
She glanced toward the staircase.
“What?”
“Twenty minutes!”
She looked back at Wyatt.
“Midnight.”
That word changed the temperature of the room.
Sabrina gathered the papers.
“You have until then.”
After she left, I waited until the door closed completely.
Then I emerged.
Wyatt stared at my phone.
“You got that?”
“Every word.”
His eyes closed in relief.
I knelt beside the chain.
“Where’s the key?”
“Victor carries it.”
“What exactly have they been giving you?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long have you been here?”
He stared blankly.
“Maybe nine days.”
Nine.
I looked away because I could not let him see what that number did to me.
“How did nobody notice?”
“They took my phone. Told employees I was sick. Canceled meetings. Sabrina sends texts pretending to be me.”
“What started this?”
Wyatt leaned back against the column.
“Three months ago I found Victor accessing financial reports.”
“Which reports?”
“My private holdings.”
“Why did he have access?”
“Sabrina gave him my password.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Wyatt continued.
“I confronted her. She said it was harmless. Then I found loan applications.”
“In your name?”
He nodded.
“How much?”
“Almost six million.”
I felt my anger sharpen.
“They were denied because I froze my credit.”
“That’s why they did this?”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“That’s when I discovered Sabrina had been moving money for years.”
“How much?”
“Nearly two million that I can prove.”
“And Victor?”
“Debts.”
“What kind?”
“Bad ones.”
I understood.
People commit reckless acts when they think money can save them.
“What happened the night they took you?”
“Victor invited me here to talk. Sabrina said she wanted to fix our marriage.”
Wyatt laughed bitterly.
“I wanted to believe her.”
There was shame in his voice.
I stopped him.
“Trusting your wife is not stupidity.”
“I should’ve listened to you.”
“You should’ve been safe in your own home.”
That was the only truth that mattered.
I inspected the chain.
Industrial padlock.
Too heavy to break quietly.
“Can you stand?”
“Not on that leg.”
“We may need to wait.”
“For what?”
“For them to give us more.”
Wyatt stared at me.
“Dad, they’re planning to kill me.”
“I know.”
“You’re too calm.”
“No.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“I’m furious.”
“Then why aren’t we calling 911?”
“Because if there are drugs in your system, documents upstairs, planted evidence, and forty guests who have been fed a story for weeks, I want this case finished before Sabrina gets the chance to rewrite it.”
Wyatt studied me.
“You sound like Mom.”
“That woman could build a criminal case over missing leftovers.”
He almost smiled.
It was the first glimpse of my son I had seen all night.
I texted Harold.
Emergency. Contact Sheriff’s Major Crimes. Quiet response. Do not approach until my signal. Wyatt alive. Criminal confinement.
Then I shared my location.
No reply was needed.
Harold knew me well enough to act.
At 11:48, footsteps returned.
Not heels this time.
Men’s shoes.
Victor descended alone.
He carried a tumbler in one hand and a syringe in the other.
I started recording again.
“Well,” he said to Wyatt, “shall we finish this?”
Wyatt stared at the syringe.
“What’s in that?”
“Something to help you relax.”
“You mean something to make me look dead.”
Victor smiled.
“Careful. Paranoia looks bad in medical records.”
He placed the syringe beside the papers.
Then leaned close.
“You always thought you were smarter than Sabrina.”
“No.”
Wyatt’s voice was weak but steady.
“I just thought she loved me.”
Victor sighed.
“My daughter loves security.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No. It’s more reliable.”
Victor straightened.
“In twelve minutes, everyone upstairs will be drunk and distracted. After midnight, you sign.”
“And if I don’t?”
Victor picked up the syringe.
“You won’t be making decisions much longer.”
I captured every word.
Then something happened upstairs.
A guest shouted.
Another voice answered.
Victor looked toward the ceiling.
At that exact moment, Wyatt’s eyes shifted toward me.
Only for half a second.
But Victor noticed.
His face changed.
He turned toward the storage shelves.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
Victor stepped closer.
I stopped breathing.
He moved around one shelf.
Then another.
The phone kept recording.
His hand reached toward the last stack of boxes separating us.
Before he could pull one aside, Sabrina called from upstairs.
“Dad! We need you!”
Victor froze.
He looked toward Wyatt again.
Then toward the shelf.
Finally, he backed away.
“This isn’t over.”
He climbed the stairs.
I waited until the door shut.
Then Wyatt whispered,
“You need to go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“They know something’s wrong.”
“Good.”
“Dad—”
I checked the time.
11:52.
Eight minutes to midnight.
My phone vibrated once.
A message from Harold.
Units nearby. Waiting.
I looked at Wyatt.
“Can you give me eight minutes?”
He closed his eyes.
“For what?”
I stood.
“For Sabrina to show the entire room exactly who she is.”
May you like
Then I quietly headed toward the stairs.
---
