Madison’s voice filled the ballroom.
“To the stupidest man in Boston.”
Then Margaret’s laugh.
“To Charles. The goose that lays the golden eggs.”
A gasp swept across the room.
Margaret lunged toward me.
“Charles! Turn it off! The screen has been hacked!”
I stood still.
“Sit down, Margaret. The presentation is not over.”
The video continued.
The ballroom watched my wife and daughter-in-law discuss debts, fake pregnancy plans, hidden property, and control of my fortune.
Then Margaret’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“I’ve been crushing digoxin into his morning ginger smoothies. One day, he’ll fall asleep in his chair and never wake up. Then we control everything.”
Chaos erupted.
People shouted. Board members stood. Margaret staggered backward, pale and shaking.
“That recording is illegal!” Madison screamed.
“Funny you mention recordings,” I said.
The screen went black.
Then the café audio played.
