Chapter 14 - Raymond’s Choice
Raymond Pike turned himself in twelve hours later.
Not to Victor.
To federal investigators.
Renee called from downtown.
“He wants counsel.”
Victor laughed bitterly.
“Good instinct.”
“He also wants to speak with you.”
“No.”
A pause.
Renee said, “I think you should.”
Victor stared through his office windows.
Ethan and Maya sat outside on the terrace playing chess beneath a security canopy.
“Why?”
“Because he says he can explain what happened the night Simone died.”
Victor’s body went cold.
He arrived at the federal building forty minutes later.
Raymond sat in a conference room beside his attorney.
He looked exhausted.
Victor remained standing.
“You lied to my son.”
“Yes.”
“You worked for Theodore.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years before the crash.”
Victor’s anger rose.
Raymond continued.
“Not the way you think.”
“I don’t care how you want me to think.”
“I owed him.”
Victor scoffed.
“Everyone owes Theodore.”
Raymond looked ashamed.
“My wife had cancer.”
Victor paused.
“She needed an experimental treatment our insurance wouldn’t cover.”
Victor remembered Raymond’s wife, Elise.
She had died five years earlier.
“Theodore paid for it,” Raymond said.
Victor sat slowly.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Pride.”
A bitter smile.
“I didn’t want the billionaire boss saving my family.”
“So you let another billionaire buy you.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
“What did he ask?”
“At first, information. Your travel schedule. Board meetings. Simone’s foundation work.”
“And later?”
“Access.”
Victor thought of the key card.
“You gave Calvin Ross archive credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Before the crash.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I told myself they wanted corporate records.”
“You knew better.”
“Eventually.”
Victor leaned forward.
“What happened the night Simone died?”
Raymond looked at his hands.
“Theodore called me from Route 17.”
Victor’s heart hammered.
“What time?”
“Seven forty-three.”
The crash occurred around seven thirty-eight.
“He was already at the scene.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Simone had crashed. He told me to disable external camera backups and prepare the estate for police.”
“Why?”
“He said there were sensitive corporate documents in her vehicle.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Did you know he took them?”
“No.”
“Did you erase footage?”
“I removed the boathouse camera from the network.”
“Why?”
“He told me Simone had been meeting an employee there and the footage could create scandal.”
“Daniel.”
“Yes.”
Victor stared.
“And Ethan?”
Raymond closed his eyes.
“After the hospital, Calvin interviewed him.”
“You allowed Theodore’s lawyer to question my traumatized ten-year-old son?”
“Calvin presented himself as outside counsel coordinating the family response.”
Victor stood.
Raymond’s lawyer tensed.
Victor did nothing.
He simply walked to the window.
“Ethan told him someone followed them.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Calvin told me to discredit the memory.”
Victor turned.
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid.”
Victor’s expression became empty.
“I’m getting tired of that word.”
Raymond nodded.
“So am I.”
He reached into his jacket.
His attorney placed a hand on his wrist.
Raymond stopped and instead gestured.
“My lawyer has a drive.”
The attorney placed it on the table.
“What is it?” Victor asked.
“Recordings.”
“Of?”
“Theodore.”
Victor stared.
“I started recording him after the crash.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized he had lied about why he wanted access.”
Raymond’s voice shook.
“And because I saw blood on his sleeve when he came to the estate.”
Victor went completely still.
“Simone’s?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he tried to help her.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Did he?”
“I believed that for years.”
“And now?”
Raymond looked toward the drive.
“One recording changed my mind.”
Renee inserted it into a secure computer.
Theodore’s voice filled the room.
“You should have deleted the boy’s interview.”
Raymond answered, “He’s ten.”
“And he remembers too much.”
Victor’s face drained.
Raymond’s recorded voice said, “He remembers a black sedan. That’s all.”
Theodore replied, “For now.”
Silence.
Then Theodore said:
“Children turn fragments into stories. Make sure this one learns the right story.”
The recording ended.
Victor stood motionless.
Renee quietly said, “That’s obstruction. Potential witness tampering.”
Victor looked at Raymond.
“Why didn’t you give this to police?”
“Cowardice.”
Victor’s eyes burned.
Raymond continued.
“I kept telling myself I would. Then a month became a year.”
Victor said, “And my son spent two years thinking adults didn’t believe him.”
Raymond lowered his head.
“Yes.”
When Victor returned home, Ethan was waiting.
He knew.
Victor sat across from him.
“Raymond admitted it.”
Ethan looked toward the window.
“Okay.”
“He recorded Theodore.”
“Okay.”
Victor did not know what response he had expected.
Anger.
Relief.
Vindication.
Ethan simply looked tired.
“Do you want to hear it?”
“No.”
Victor nodded.
After a moment, Ethan said, “Did Raymond apologize?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe him?”
“That he’s sorry?”
“Yeah.”
Victor thought.
“Yes.”
“Does that fix it?”
“No.”
Ethan nodded.
“Okay.”
Victor understood something then.
Forgiveness was not a switch.
Neither was accountability.
People could regret their choices and still owe the consequences.
That evening, federal agents executed warrants at Blackwell Capital.
Theodore was not there.
Neither was Calvin Ross.
Both had vanished.
But investigators found one thing in Theodore’s office safe.
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Simone’s missing phone.
And on it was an unsent voice recording made less than one minute before the crash.
