The Price of Blood and the Cost of Standing Alone Against Family
“Who edited that?” Mara asked. “That security system in your aunt’s house is a closed-circuit loop. How did they get the footage so quickly?”
I stared at the screen of my phone, replaying the cut-scenes in my mind.
“I don’t know,” I lied, though a cold dread was beginning to settle in my stomach.
“The hospital’s PR team is already calling me,” Mara said. “The Chief of Staff wants a meeting first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Get some sleep, Elizabeth. We’ll fight this.”
“Thank you, Mara.”
I ended the call and walked over to the window.
Rain lashed against the glass, blurring the city lights below into streaks of yellow and red.
I sat down at my laptop and opened the link again.
I cast the video to my television screen so I could watch it larger.
I watched the transitions between the frames.
They were not rough cuts.
They were smooth, professional transitions using a specific fading technique.
The audio had been leveled to make my voice louder while muffling Aunt Patricia’s insults.
I remembered my brother Daniel’s words from twenty minutes ago.