Mark’s heavy, gravelly voice filled the quiet warehouse, echoing off the metal walls.

“If she doesn’t sign the transfer, we make the decision for her,” Mark’s voice said from the small speaker.

“A fall, a car mishap, whatever it takes to get her into Vale’s facility.”

“Once Vale has her under lock and key, the trust administration defaults to me.”

Yasmin’s voice could be heard in the background, murmuring her agreement over the sound of ice clinking in a glass.

“Just make sure there are no marks that don’t look accidental,” Yasmin had warned him.

The recording played on, detailing the exact layout of the stairs where I was eventually pushed.

I felt a sickening chill run down my spine as I listened to my father plan my destruction.

The officer standing near us shook his head in disgust, his hand resting on his belt.

“That’s premeditated conspiracy to commit grievous bodily harm,” the officer said.

“This is enough to revoke his bail immediately,” Ana said, locking the phone and placing it in her pocket.

“Mark is currently staying at his lawyer’s townhouse in Sacramento under electronic monitoring.”