Chapter 10 - THE VOICE ON THE TABLETThe tablet was old, cracked across one corner, and covered in stickers.
A unicorn.
A faded rainbow.
Three purple stars.
Mom kept it in her bag for emergencies. The battery lasted only if the screen stayed dim, and sometimes it shut off when I pressed too hard.
That day, Daniel treated it like treasure.
He took it from Mom with both hands and said, “We need to preserve this properly.”
But reporters were already shouting.
David’s attorney pushed through the crowd.
“No recordings will be played without authentication.”
Daniel looked at him.
“No one asked you.”
David stepped closer.
“Grace,” he said quietly, low enough that only those nearby could hear, “think very carefully.”
Mom looked at him.
“I am.”
The recording was not played on the sidewalk.
Daniel would not allow it. Evidence mattered. Chain of custody mattered. Grown-up rules mattered.
But the existence of it changed the air.
David’s team left quickly.
Eleanor did not speak at all.
Her eyes stayed on the tablet until she got into the SUV.
That afternoon, Daniel brought us to his office.
It smelled like books, printer paper, and coffee.
He connected the tablet to a computer while Mom sat beside me, bouncing one knee uncontrollably.
Vincent stood near the door. Mara sat across from Daniel with a notebook.
The file was labeled Turtle Song Final FINAL.
I had named many things final.
Daniel clicked play.
At first, my voice filled the room.
“Tiny turtle, tiny turtle, walking to the sea…”
I smiled.
Then, in the background, Mom’s voice appeared.
“Please, Mr. Sterling. I’ve waited eleven weeks.”
The room became still.
David’s voice followed.
Cold.
Clear.
“You should be grateful you still have a job.”
Mom closed her eyes.
The recording continued.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Mom whispered. “My daughter needs groceries.”
David laughed.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
“Then work harder.”
Mom’s hand flew to her mouth.
On the recording, she said, “I worked sixty-three hours last week.”
“And if you complain again,” David replied, “I’ll make sure every restaurant in this city knows you’re trouble.”
Daniel stopped the audio.
For a moment, nobody breathed.
Then Mom stood and walked to the window.
I slid down from the chair and followed her.
“Mommy?”
She wiped her face quickly.
“I’m okay.”
“No you’re not.”
She looked down at me.
Then she knelt.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not. But I will be.”
Daniel cleared his throat.
“This recording is powerful. It supports coercion, retaliation, and wage claims.”
Mara added, “Combined with the ledger, the lawsuit against Grace becomes risky for David.”
Vincent asked, “Risky or dead?”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“Dead if we move fast.”
Mom turned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we counterclaim. Wage theft. Retaliation. Intentional infliction. Defamation if they keep calling you an extortionist.”
Mom looked overwhelmed.
“I don’t want to ruin anyone.”
Mara’s expression softened.
“Grace, he sued you.”
Mom looked down.
“He could lose everything.”
Vincent spoke for the first time in several minutes.
“He made peace with you losing everything.”
That settled over the room.
Mom looked at the tablet.
Then at me.
“I want my wages,” she said. “And I want everyone paid. And I want him to stop lying.”
Daniel nodded.
“That is reasonable.”
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it.
His expression went sharp.
“What?” Mara asked.
Vincent read the message again.
“Eleanor Sterling just called a board meeting for Sterling Development Trust.”
Mara straightened.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
Vincent looked at Mom.
“To move assets before anyone freezes them.”
Mom whispered, “Can they do that?”
Mara’s jaw hardened.
“They can try.”
Vincent slid his phone into his pocket.
“Then we go tonight.”
Daniel said, “Vincent—”
“No intimidation. No theatrics. Just documents.”
Mara stood.
“I’ll bring the documents.”
Mom looked between them.
“What about us?”
Vincent’s eyes softened slightly.
“You stay safe.”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone turned to her.
David had called her emotional.
Eleanor had called her fragile.
The lawsuit had called her dishonest.
Mom stood in Daniel Price’s office wearing the same black uniform she had worn while begging for her paycheck, and she said, “If they are moving money stolen from my work, I want to see their faces when they deny it.”
Daniel hesitated.
Vincent did not.
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
Mom took my hand.
I looked up.
“Are we going to another grown-up table?”
She almost smiled.
“Yes, baby.”
May you like
I squeezed my purple crayon.
This time, nobody told me to stay in the office.
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