Chapter Nine #3
Griffin pushed him back into the doorway.
Piper folded her arms.
“Was the almost kiss fake for you?”
Emmett’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
The answer arrived before he gave it.
“No.”
Heat moved through her.
Everyone else in the office seemed to become fascinated by the walls.
Piper lowered her voice. “You should have said something.”
“You were holding my face.”
“There were cameras.”
“You removed the mask.”
“The crowd was chanting.”
“You leaned closer.”
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
The simple agreement made her heart beat harder.
Emmett stepped nearer.
“I was waiting for you.”
“For what?”
“To decide.”
Piper could feel every person in the office pretending not to listen.
“This is not the place,” she said.
His mouth moved.
“You keep saying that.”
“That was my line.”
“It works.”
Her phone rang.
The interview producer.
Piper stepped away before answering.
“This is Piper.”
The producer did not bother with a greeting.
“We verified the Briar Bean footage. Owen denies staging it.”
“He is visible directing the scene.”
“He says he was recreating something he witnessed earlier.”
Piper closed her eyes.
Of course.
“He claims the real incident happened somewhere without cameras,” the producer continued. “He says the recreation was for his own records.”
“His own records.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he provide it as security footage?”
“He says the file was mislabeled by a junior member of his team.”
Piper looked at Emmett.
He watched her face carefully.
“What else?” she asked.
The producer took a second.
“Owen provided another item.”
Piper’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“An audio recording.”
“Of whom?”
“You and Emmett.”
Emmett stepped closer.
Piper activated speakerphone.
The producer continued.
“The recording is dated June twenty ninth. It appears to capture a private conversation between the two of you behind the Lake Briar rental office.”
Piper searched her memory.
June twenty ninth.
A Sunday.
The day after Owen canceled dinner because of a work emergency.
She had stayed late at the rental office.
Emmett had found her on the back steps.
They spoke for almost an hour.
Piper remembered the conversation.
Too well.
“What does the recording contain?” she asked.
The producer’s voice became careful.
“You tell Emmett you wish you had met him before Owen.”
The room went silent.
Piper looked at Emmett.
His face had changed.
He remembered too.
The producer continued.
“Emmett responds that it is not too late.”
Piper’s heartbeat stopped.
“That is not what he said.”
“We have the audio.”
“It has been edited.”
“Possibly. Our technical team is reviewing it.”
Emmett moved beside the phone.
“Send the entire file.”
“We will send the portion Owen submitted.”
“No,” Emmett said. “Send the raw file with metadata.”
“We do not have the original recording.”
“Then you have nothing.”
The producer let out a breath. “We have enough to ask about it live.”
Piper’s anger arrived cleanly.
“You will not play edited audio and ask me to defend it without providing the file first.”
“This is a live interview.”
“It is not an ambush.”
The producer went quiet.
Piper continued.
“If you air manipulated material without verification, you become part of the story. Decide whether that is the kind of engagement you want.”
Maren’s eyebrows rose.
Tyler whispered, “Professional danger radius.”
The producer spoke again.
“We will send everything we have.”
The call ended.
Piper lowered the phone.
Emmett remained beside her.
“What did you actually say?” she asked.
He looked toward the rear window.
The answer did not come immediately.
Piper’s pulse climbed.
“Emmett.”
“I said it was not too late to decide what you wanted.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
“What did I say after?”
“You said wanting something did not mean you were allowed to take it.”
Piper remembered.
Then Emmett had told her she was allowed to want more from her life, even if the more had nothing to do with him.
Owen had cut that part.
Of course he had.
The producer’s email arrived.
One audio file.
Piper downloaded it.
Emmett’s voice filled the office.
“It is not too late.”
Her own voice followed.
“What if it is?”
The clip ended.
No context.
No complete sentence.
Just enough to make guilt sound intimate.
Piper opened the metadata.
The file had been created two days earlier.
Not recorded.
Created.
Edited using a professional audio program.
She clicked deeper into the file properties.
The export history appeared.
Device name.
User account.
Software license.
Piper stared.
Maren leaned over her shoulder.
“What is it?”
Piper could not answer immediately.
The audio had been edited on a MacBook.
Not Owen’s.
Hers.
The laptop she had used to run Quinn Events for four years.
The laptop she had left at Owen’s apartment the night she found the earrings because she had walked out carrying only her handbag and her dignity.
The device name remained attached to the file.
PIPER-Q-MBP
Her old administrator account had exported the recording.
Piper looked at Emmett.
“Owen does not only have my messages.”
Her throat tightened.
“He has my entire business.”