Chapter 3
I moved the dinner guests into the adjoining salon.
No one left.
Not until I understood who had heard which voice.
Tessa remained only because she asked.
Her wrist was examined first.
Then she sat near the fireplace with a cup of water.
Daphne stayed at the head table.
No ring removed yet.
Not because the engagement survived.
Because I wanted every symbol left exactly where the lie began.
My steward brought his phone.
One audio message.
My voice.
Perfect.
“Starting tonight, Daphne’s instructions carry the same weight as mine inside the estate.”
I listened twice.
Cold.
Measured.
My pauses.
Even the slight drop in tone on “mine.”
I had never said it.
Daphne watched my face.
“Anyone could fake audio.”
I almost smiled.
“Interesting defense from the woman who benefited from every recording.”
She looked away.
Rafe, my security chief, entered.
He had checked the captain network.
Three men had received voice messages.
One telling them to delay a shipment.
One instructing them to move two guards away from the east property.
One asking them to provide Daphne’s brother access to a private club.
Only one captain obeyed.
The others called for confirmation.
Why did I not hear about those calls?
Because my personal assistant told them I was unavailable.
I stared.
“My assistant?”
Rafe nodded.
“Gone.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Daphne shifted.
There.
Another piece.
His name was Elliot March.
Thirty-four.
Worked for me five years.
Efficient.
Quiet.
Trusted.
Too trusted.
I asked:
“Did Elliot receive recordings?”
Rafe looked grim.
“He created some.”
Daphne’s head snapped toward him.
That reaction mattered.
She knew he was involved.
Not that he had been identified.
Rafe found fragments of audio work on a laptop Elliot left in the estate office.
My speeches.
Private voice notes.
Dinner recordings.
Phone messages.
Hundreds of samples.
Someone had built an imitation from my own life.
Daphne whispered:
“Elliot said it couldn’t be traced.”
I looked at her.
“Thank you.”
She realized too late.
First direct admission.
Tessa lowered her eyes.
May you like
I did not.
I wanted Daphne to understand exactly when the story stopped belonging to her.
