Chapter 12 - The Seven Minutes
The observatory was empty.
Claire placed the cassette on the table.
“Where is my son?”
The lights came on.
A screen showed Mateo.
He was alive.
Maria started crying.
Claire stepped forward.
“Let him go.”
The older man appeared on another screen.
“First, the recording.”
Claire inserted the cassette.
The audio began.
Rain.
A car engine.
Evelyn's voice.
Richard's father.
Pamela.
Then Claire's own voice.
She sounded younger.
Confused.
“What are you doing with my son?”
Richard answered.
“Nothing.”
The recording continued.
Then came a sound Claire had never heard before.
Her father.
He was there.
Alive.
He was arguing with Richard's father.
The conversation revealed everything.
The financial network.
The trust.
The plan to control Claire's company.
The attempt to manipulate Mateo.
But then came the seven minutes.
The audio suddenly became distorted.
A loud crash.
Silence.
Seven minutes.
Claire stared.
“That's it?”
Pamela shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed to the recording machine.
“There is another channel.”
They changed the playback.
A hidden audio layer emerged.
Mateo's infant cry.
Evelyn's voice.
Richard's father shouting.
Then Richard.
“Dad, stop.”
Claire's heart stopped.
Richard had tried to stop him.
The older man threatened Richard.
“If you don't cooperate, Claire dies.”
Richard's voice cracked.
“Leave her alone.”
Then came another voice.
Pamela.
“I called someone.”
The older man shouted.
“Who?”
“Police.”
A struggle followed.
Then the recording ended.
Claire turned toward Richard.
“You tried to save us.”
Richard looked at the floor.
“Too late.”
The screen showing Mateo suddenly disappeared.
The older man's voice returned.
“You finally understand.”
Claire shouted:
“Where is my son?”
A door opened behind them.
Mateo walked in.
Maria ran to him.
Claire followed.
But Mateo stopped her.
He was holding something.
A small metal key.
“Mom.”
“What is it?”
Mateo looked toward Richard.
“Dad gave me this.”
Richard shook his head.
“I never gave him that.”
Everyone froze.
Mateo held out the key.
“He said I should give it to you.”
Claire took it.
There was a number engraved on it.
17.
Pamela stared.
“Oh no.”
Claire looked at her.
“What?”
May you like
Pamela whispered:
“That isn't a key to a door.”
