Chapter 15 - Erasing Friday AfternoonCeleste had made a serious mistake.
She had believed that the camera's privacy function prevented recording.
When Owen told her the setting might only conceal the live image, she panicked.
Using her administrative credentials, she logged into the estate's recorder and searched for the garden camera.
The system displayed a timeline of stored recordings.
She found Friday afternoon.
Selected the relevant interval.
And submitted a deletion command.
The recorder displayed a warning about removing indexed footage.
She confirmed.
For several seconds, she watched the progress bar.
Then the segment disappeared from the normal playback list.
Celeste exhaled.
She did not know that the deletion itself was being logged.
She did not know about the temporary memory card inside the camera.
And she did not understand that removing a recording from an application's index was not necessarily the same as erasing every recoverable copy.
Her technical ignorance had already caused the first mistake.
Her desperation was creating the second.
Mateo discovered the suspicious deletion entry during the forensic review.
The timestamp was three days after Northstar received the preservation notice.
The command had been issued using Celeste's administrative account.
He brought the finding to his manager.
"We need counsel involved," he said.
"Immediately."
The company's lawyer advised preserving the equipment, maintaining chain-of-custody records, and suspending routine maintenance that might overwrite data.
Daniel was notified through his attorney.
So was Ellis.
The deletion was potentially significant.
But an account name alone did not establish who physically operated a device.
Further analysis would be necessary.
At the mansion, Daniel received a call from his attorney.
When he heard about the deleted footage, he stood so abruptly that his chair struck the wall.
"Celeste's account?"
"Yes."
"After the preservation notice?"
"Yes."
Daniel closed his eyes.
For nearly two weeks, he had tried to leave room for an innocent explanation.
He had told himself that Celeste was defensive because she felt accused.
That Nora might be confused.
That the camera problem might be technical.
Now the excuses were becoming harder to sustain.
He went upstairs.
Celeste was packing a weekend bag.
"Where are you going?"
She turned.
"To see my sister."
"I didn't know you had plans."
"I need space."
Daniel looked at the open suitcase.
"Did you delete the garden footage?"
Celeste stopped folding a sweater.
"What?"
"Northstar found a deletion under your account."
"That system is unreliable."
"Did you delete it?"
"I clear old recordings all the time."
"After lawyers told us to preserve evidence?"
Celeste closed the suitcase.
"I didn't read their letter."
Daniel stared at her.
"Everyone in this house knew about it."
"Then maybe someone used my account."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Celeste."
"Stop interrogating me!"
Her voice echoed across the bedroom.
Daniel took a step back.
It was not fear of her anger.
It was the sudden recognition that he could no longer trust anything she said.
"You're going to stay somewhere else for now," he said.
Celeste stared at him.
"You can't throw me out of my own home."
"I'm asking you to leave while we investigate."
"We're married."
"That doesn't change what happened to Nora."
Her expression turned cold.
"You don't know what happened to Nora."
Daniel felt his stomach drop.
"No," he said. "But I intend to find out."
Celeste left that evening.
She took two suitcases, her personal laptop, and several folders.
Daniel asked the estate manager to document the property she removed.
He did not search her belongings or attempt to stop her.
His lawyer had advised him to preserve evidence and avoid any confrontation that might complicate the investigation.
Nora watched from the staircase.
"Is Celeste coming back?"
Daniel knelt.
"She's staying somewhere else for a little while."
"Because of me?"
The question broke his heart.
"No."
Nora looked toward the driveway.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then why are people fighting?"
Daniel sat beside her.
"Because adults made decisions they need to answer for."
Nora looked uncertain.
"Are you one of them?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
She leaned against him.
It was not forgiveness.
But it was a beginning.
At her sister's house, Celeste opened her laptop and searched for Owen's name.
She found the side agreement.
The loan documents.
The Westbridge consulting invoices.
And emails concerning the appraisal.
For the first time, she understood how much evidence existed outside her control.
She could delete her own copies.
She could not erase records from banks, attorneys, contractors, and corporate systems.
Her phone rang.
Owen.
"Daniel's lawyer has sent a preservation demand to Bellweather," he said.
Celeste stared at the screen.
"What does he want?"
"Ownership records. Appraisals. Communications. Every document related to your interest."
"Don't give him anything."
"We have legal obligations."
"Since when do you care about those?"
"Since your husband started asking the right questions."
Celeste closed her eyes.
Owen continued.
"If you did something to that child, don't involve me."
She felt a wave of anger.
"You knew I needed the coach out of the way."
"I knew you said she was causing problems."
"You told me to handle it."
"I didn't tell you to endanger anyone."
Celeste was silent.
Owen lowered his voice.
"Celeste, what exactly did you do?"
She looked at the deleted video timeline still visible in her browser history.
Then at the suitcase beside her bed.
May you like
And she whispered:
"Something I can't undo."
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