Chapter 3 - The Birthday Gift That Became Evidence
Franklin did not open the door immediately.
He looked at the brown-paper package in his hand.
Brandon’s eyes followed it.
“What’s in there?”
Franklin slowly removed the paper.
The antique wristwatch caught the daylight.
It had a scratched gold face and a dark leather strap.
Brandon recognized it.
“That was Grandpa’s.”
“Yes.”
“You said it was lost.”
“I said I hadn’t decided who deserved it.”
Brandon looked offended.
“I’m your son.”
“That is a relationship. Not a qualification.”
Amber stepped between them.
“This is ridiculous. Brandon made one mistake.”
Franklin looked at the red mark forming across his cheek.
“One?”
Amber folded her arms.
“You came in here accusing us.”
“I came into my own house.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it remains true.”
Brandon reached for the watch.
Franklin pulled it back.
“This belonged to a man who worked forty-seven years without ever raising his hand to his father.”
Brandon’s face hardened.
“Don’t compare me to him.”
“I was not.”
The insult landed slowly.
Amber turned toward the door.
“Let the attorney in. We’ll clear this up.”
Franklin nodded.
“That is exactly what he is here to do.”
He unlocked the front entrance.
David Mercer entered carrying a slim briefcase.
Behind him stood a woman in a cream suit, approximately fifty years old, with composed eyes and a silver real-estate pin.
Brandon frowned.
“Who is she?”
The woman extended no hand.
“Catherine Monroe.”
Amber’s mouth opened.
The Monroe name was known throughout Houston.
Catherine’s family controlled several hotels, private clinics and residential developments.
Brandon had spent months trying to get invited to one of their charity dinners.
Now Catherine stood in his living room.
Franklin corrected the thought immediately.
The company’s living room.
David glanced at Franklin’s face.
“What happened?”
Brandon answered first.
“He fell.”
Franklin said nothing.
Amber nodded quickly.
“He lost his balance.”
David looked at the shifted chair.
Then at Franklin’s torn shoulder fabric.
Then at the phone lying face-up on the coffee table.
“Did the security system record the room?” he asked.
Brandon’s eyes widened.
Franklin looked toward the white table lamp.
A tiny black lens had been installed beneath the shade after several valuables disappeared six weeks earlier.
Amber followed his gaze.
Her expression collapsed.
Brandon whispered, “You recorded us?”
Franklin picked up the phone.
“I recorded my house.”
David opened his briefcase.
May you like
“Then we have more to discuss than the sale.”
👉 Brandon believed the deed was his greatest problem—until he learned the slap had been captured from two different angles.
