Chapter 7 - The Voice From the Fire
Chaos erupted, but it was a muffled, confused chaos. The crowd murmured in shock, heads whipping frantically between me and the frozen man on the stage.
“Natalie?” Brett choked out into the microphone, his voice cracking, the polished charisma instantly vaporizing. “Nat... you’re alive? But... we looked everywhere...”
He was trying to pivot. He was trying to play the shocked, overjoyed husband. He even took a step away from the podium, opening his arms as if he were going to rush down the stairs and embrace me.
“Stop,” I commanded, my voice slicing through the heavy air.
He froze on the steps.
Eleanor finally found her voice. “Natalie! How dare you! Where have you been? You abandoned him, you ran away into the smoke and put us all through hell!” she screeched, trying to seize control of the narrative.
Tessa was shaking violently, backing away from the table, looking frantically toward the exit doors.
“I didn't run away, Eleanor,” I said, looking at the older woman. “I fell on my kitchen floor, choking on ash, while you drove away in the only car.”
“She’s lying! She’s hysterical! She's always been unstable!” Brett shouted into the microphone, panic completely taking over his features. “Security! Please, my wife has clearly suffered a mental break, she needs medical attention!”
Two security guards at the edge of the room took a hesitant step forward, unsure of what to do.
I didn't argue. I didn't scream.
I simply reached into my clutch, pulled out the small black remote, and pressed the button.
Suddenly, the ballroom’s state-of-the-art surround sound speakers crackled to life. A harsh, terrifying burst of static filled the elegant room, silencing the crowd instantly.
Then, my voice echoed from the speakers. But it wasn't the calm voice I had now. It was the frantic, screaming, dying voice from three months ago.
“My name is Natalie Keene! I’m at the Keene cabin off Pine Ridge Road! My husband took the only car. I’m trapped. I’m six months pregnant, and the smoke is already inside!”
Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Women covered their mouths in horror. Men stared at the stage in absolute disgust.
The audio continued to play, the sound of the roaring fire clear in the background.
“He left me! Brett Keene! He took Tessa Vale and his mother and he left me here to die!”
The loud, sickening thud of the phone dropping. The horrific sound of a pregnant woman coughing, choking, gasping for air on a kitchen floor.
I pressed the button again, cutting the audio. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
I looked at Brett. He was trembling, completely destroyed. The mask had not just slipped; it had been shattered into a million pieces.
“Did the PR firm help you write your speech, Brett?” I asked quietly, the microphone picking up the silence of the room so well that my voice carried easily. “Or did you come up with the part about 'protecting the people you love' all on your own?”
Tessa let out a pathetic sob, turned, and bolted for the side exit, pushing past waiters and guests in a desperate bid to escape the stares. No one tried to stop her.
Eleanor sat frozen in her chair, her face flushed dark purple, staring at the floor, unable to meet the glaring eyes of her wealthy friends.
Brett looked at me, then at the baby stroller, realizing for the first time that there was a child sleeping peacefully inside it. His child. The child he had sacrificed for a clear road out.
“Natalie... please,” he whispered, though he wasn't speaking into the microphone anymore.
May you like
I turned the stroller around.
“Detective Reynolds is waiting in the lobby,” I said without looking back. “She has a warrant for reckless endangerment and criminal abandonment. Have a good night, Brett.”
