Chapter 3 - The Tablet's Poisonous Truth
Inside the lockbox lay a sleek, rose-gold iPad—a secondary tablet that Alejandro had bought Valerie for her birthday six months ago, which she claimed she had lost during a trip to Austin.
Beside the tablet was a manila folder marked CONFIDENTIAL - ESTATE PLANNING.
Elena picked up the tablet first. It was locked with a passcode. She tried the same four-digit code from the journal: 0 4 1 2. The screen instantly unlocked, revealing a clean desktop background.
Elena sat down on the edge of the master bed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She opened the web browser first.
The search history had not been cleared. The list of recent queries stretched back over four months, painting a terrifying roadmap of premeditated malice:
How to cause fluid buildup in lungs without leaving obvious marks
Symptoms of chronic antimony toxicity vs pediatric viral pneumonia
How long does amoxicillin stay in a child's bloodstream during toxicological screen?
Dallas County Probate Court: Rights of surviving spouse over adoptive child's trust fund
Marissa Rivers estate trust payout terms upon death of primary beneficiary
Elena felt tears of absolute fury sting her eyes. She gripped the tablet so hard her knuckles turned white.
"You didn't just want her gone," Elena whispered into the quiet room. "You wanted the trust."
Elena knew what Valerie was hunting for. When Marissa died in that tragic highway crash two years ago, she had been a successful software architect. She had left behind a five-million-dollar life insurance policy and estate trust exclusively dedicated to Sophie. Under the terms of the trust drafted by Marissa’s attorneys, Alejandro was named the sole trustee until Sophie turned twenty-five.
However, a specific clause in the estate documents stated that if Sophie passed away before reaching adulthood without surviving siblings, the full five-million-dollar capital would immediately transfer to Alejandro outright—as his personal, unencumbered inheritance.
And six months ago, right before they got married, Valerie had convinced Alejandro to sign a comprehensive mutual estate plan, stating that in the event of any tragedy, all personal assets and inheritances held by either spouse would automatically transfer to the surviving partner.
Valerie was positioning herself to inherit five million dollars—and Alejandro’s trucking empire—by systematically eliminating the small girl who stood between her and the money.
Elena quickly pulled out her own phone, opened her camera, and began photographing every single page of the search history, ensuring that even if the tablet was remotely wiped, the digital evidence would survive.
Then, she opened the tablet’s file manager app.
Stored in a hidden folder labeled Audio Logs were dozens of MP3 files. The tablet had been paired with the smart-home nursery cameras installed in Sophie’s room—cameras that Valerie had claimed were "broken" two months ago when Alejandro noticed the feeds kept going offline.
Valerie hadn't broken them. She had simply redirected their local wireless storage feeds directly to her personal iPad.
Elena selected the most recent recording, dated three nights ago at 11:42 p.m., and tapped play.
The speaker crackled to life.
The faint, trembling voice of eight-year-old Sophie filled the quiet room: "Please... stepmother... my throat hurts so bad. I don't want the cold milk... it makes my stomach burn..."
Then came Valerie’s voice—cold, venomous, completely devoid of the sweet, gentle tone she used when Alejandro was in the room:
"Drink it, you little brat. Drink every drop, or I'll tell your father you've been throwing up on purpose just to get his attention. Do you think he wants you? Do you think he actually loves you? You're just a dead woman's baggage. If you keep crying, I'll make sure he sends you away to a boarding school in the desert where you'll never see him again."
The recording echoed with the sound of Sophie weeping quietly into her pillow, followed by the metallic click of the door locking from the outside.
Elena sat in the quiet master bedroom, her body shaking with intense, uncontrollable rage.
May you like
She opened her phone and dialed a direct number she had kept saved for five years—the personal cell phone of Captain Marcus Vance, the Chief of Homicide and Special Investigations for the Dallas Police Department, who had been a close personal friend of her late husband.
"Marcus," Elena said, her voice dropping into a tone of quiet, lethal precision. "I need an emergency forensic team and four uniformed officers at the Dallas Children’s Hospital PICU immediately. We have an active, ongoing attempted capital murder of a minor."
