Chapter 17 - The Kitchen Recording
"This... this is an invasion of privacy!" Vivian shrieked, finding her voice. "You had him followed! You spied on him!"
"We didn't need to follow him, Vivian," I said, folding my hands over my belly. "You brought the conspiracy right into my kitchen."
Naomi tapped the screen one final time. An audio file began to play. It was recorded three weeks prior, captured by the disclosed security cameras installed in the ceiling of our kitchen—cameras Derek had explicitly demanded we install to monitor the cleaning staff.
Vivian’s haughty, plotting voice filled the boardroom.
"Once the baby is born, you need to push for joint control of that trust immediately. If she resists, provoke her. Document another episode where she yells at you. A judge will absolutely believe she has postpartum depression and is unstable."
Derek’s voice answered casually, as if they were discussing the weather. "And if she catches on? What if she tries to leave?"
"Make sure she leaves with nothing," Vivian instructed ruthlessly. "Drain the joint accounts and lock down the house. We can starve her out."
Vivian rose from her leather chair so quickly and violently that the chair tipped backward, striking the glass wall with a loud thwack.
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"That recording is illegal!" Vivian screamed, her face purple with rage and humiliation. "You can't use a secret recording in court!"
"It was recorded inside my client’s own home, by a security system your son purchased and signed the disclosures for," Naomi retorted, not raising her voice a single decibel. "There is no expectation of privacy in a common area with visible cameras. Your attorney can explain the rest of the legal precedents to you."
