Emily Blair had noticed it right away: Isabella Austin kept one hand hidden behind her dress, stiff and unnatural.
It didn't take much for Emily to guess what she was hiding—a recorder.
The evening gown Isabella wore didn’t have pockets, so the only place she could keep something concealed was in her hand.
Emily reached out and gently pulled Isabella’s hand forward. Sure enough, there it was—a small voice recorder clutched tight in Isabella’s palm.
Her voice was calm, almost detached. “Ms. Austin, I can’t have an honest conversation with you like this.”
Isabella’s expression shifted as she realized the recorder had been discovered. After a moment, she lifted her hand and switched it off. “There. Happy now?”
Emily held out her hand. “Give it to me. Let me see.”
Isabella frowned. “You don’t trust me?”
Without another word, Emily snatched the recorder, tossed it to the floor, and crushed it under her heel until the plastic cracked and the pieces scattered, making sure it was well and truly destroyed.
Isabella gave a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Now, can we finally talk?”
Emily’s expression didn’t change. She picked up her phone and pressed play, letting Larry Mitchell’s voice ring out in the room once again.


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