The Recordings
We listened. It wasn’t one conversation, but several recordings, spaced over months. An audio diary. I realized they must have started recording after a therapist suggested tracking progress. Somewhere along the way, it became something more.
Sam said in one clip, “I found her old portfolio online. It’s still there. Someone archived it.” Leo replied, “Then we start there. People don’t forget talent like that.”
My throat tightened. They were trying to fix something—for me.
Another recording: Sam: “I sent David an email. No reply.” Leo: “Try again. Different subject line. Keep it simple.”
David. I hadn’t spoken his name in years. He was the one who hired me out of grad school, pushed me onto bigger projects, told me I had good instincts. And then I left.
Later, Sam said, “David replied. He asked questions. About her. About what she’s been doing.” Leo: “Okay… that’s something.”
Clip after clip revealed their plan. They spoke about contracts, finding someone to help, even spending money carefully. The missing money wasn’t careless—it was deliberate.
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