Chapter 11 - HE DIDN’T NEED TO TOUCH HER
Grant had finally learned something.
He didn’t need to touch Brooke to terrorize her.
A slashed tire.
A message.
A photograph.
A fake email.
A voicemail to a friend.
One small thing at a time.
Enough to keep himself in her head.
The protective order said he couldn’t contact her.
So he didn’t.
Not directly.
Instead, people around him started doing it.
An old college friend texted Brooke:
Grant says he just wants to talk.
A cousin messaged:
Marriage is hard. Don’t throw yours away.
A woman from Diane’s church wrote:
Your husband is willing to forgive you.
Brooke stared at that message for a long time.
“Forgive me.”
Then she deleted it.
“I don’t want to explain myself anymore.”
“Then don’t.”
She started blocking numbers.
It looked simple.
But each block felt like cutting a string.
And Grant had tied her to a lot of people.
Then came the call from his brother, Mark.
He was the man Grant had shouted for Diane to contact at the restaurant.
Brooke answered because Caroline had advised her to save communications rather than react impulsively.
Mark sounded exhausted.
“Brooke, I’m not calling for Grant.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because I need to tell you something.”
She put him on speaker.
“I know about the money.”
Brooke froze.
“How?”
“I used to handle part of the books.”
Caroline leaned forward.
“What exactly do you know?”
Mark hesitated.
“Who’s that?”
“My attorney.”
A long silence.
Then Mark said, “Good.”
Brooke stared at the phone.
“Good?”
“I’ve been telling my mother for two years that Grant was doing dangerous stuff with the company.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Moving debt.”
“Into my name?”
“I didn’t know that part.”
“Then what did you know?”
“He was taking money from the business.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you report him?”
Mark exhaled.
“Because he’s my brother.”
Brooke laughed bitterly.
“That excuse must run in your family.”
Mark accepted the insult.
“Yeah.”
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Grant keeps backups.”
“Backups of what?”
“Everything.”
“Where?”
“He doesn’t trust cloud storage. He uses drives.”
Brooke looked at Caroline.
“Physical hard drives?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
Mark paused.
“I think one is at Mom’s house.”
My stomach tightened.
“And the others?”
“One was in Grant’s office.”
“Was?”
“I went there yesterday.”
Brooke’s voice sharpened.
“Why?”
“Because he asked me to pick up a box.”
“What box?”
“He said personal files.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I opened it.”
Nobody spoke.
“What was inside?” Brooke asked.
“Pictures.”
Her face went white.
“What kind of pictures?”
“Pictures of you.”
Her breathing changed.
“From when?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mark.”
“I don’t know, Brooke. Some looked like they were taken through windows.”
The room went silent.
Brooke whispered, “What else?”
“Printouts of your messages. Your calendar. Copies of emails.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Then Mark said the one thing that made Brooke grip the edge of the table.
“There was also a folder with your mother’s name on it.”
