“The messages… they were from me.”
The words didn’t land immediately.
They didn’t shatter.
They didn’t echo.
They simply… settled.
Emma stared at Stephanie, her expression unchanged, as if her mind had refused to process what it had just heard.
The machines continued their steady rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Life, measured in sound.
Emma blinked once.
Slowly.
“You mean…” her voice came out calm, almost detached, “all of them?”
Stephanie didn’t look away.
“Yes.”
Silence stretched.
Emma’s fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet.
Not enough to show emotion.
Just enough to ground herself.
“The ones about the hotel?” Emma continued.
“Yes.”
“The ones about Dominic’s… affairs?”
Stephanie hesitated.
Then—
“Yes.”
Emma tilted her head slightly.
“And the ones telling m
