The listening device was the size of a sequin, a corporate espionage tool I had once seen during a hostile acquisition. While Mark showered, I knelt beside his mahogany desk and fixed it underneath. It took less than three seconds.
That night, I sat in my dark dressing room with wireless earbuds hidden beneath my hair. A foundation report filled the laptop screen. For an hour, the feed carried paper, the scratch of Mark's pen, and ice against a whiskey glass.
Then the study door opened, and Jessica's heels crossed the wood floor.
“Is she asleep?” Jessica asked.
“Like a baby,” Mark said. “The vitamins are working. My broken little bird has so much guilt she'd thank me for putting her in the cage herself.”
I turned up the recording level and checked the red timer in the corner of my scr
