As Bella stepped into the corridor from Alexander’s room, she let out the breath she had been holding. Her palms were still damp, and she could almost hear the wild beat of her heart echoing in her ears.
For those few minutes inside, with Alexander’s phone in her hand, she had danced on the edge of disaster. But she had pulled it off—brilliantly, flawlessly.
Right there, while pretending to observe the details of the shoes, she had bought herself just enough time to search. Her fingers had worked quickly, skimming through the gallery until her eyes caught what Gerald wanted.
She forwarded it to her own number in one smooth move and erased the trail before her nerves could betray her. It was all so clean—no stray notifications, no lingering history, no hint left behind. There was no wa
