With Gideon backing me so fiercely, anyone sitting on the fence might as well pack their bags.
The uninvolved pulled out phones, cameras clicking.
Martin, facing a wall of lenses, started to c***k.
Is there really a recorder?
Was she bluffing?
Hands and feet tied—how’d she hide it under the table?
But she’d survived that ocean plunge.
Martin’s mind spun, weighing odds.
He gambled, but I let out a sharp gasp, feigning realization.
“Oh! My recorder’s cloud-linked. Auto-saves every ten minutes. Got a laptop?”
Gideon had one fetched instantly.
Martin’s face went cadaver-pale.
His resolve crumbled.
The laptop arrived.
I logged into my cloud, smirking at him. “
There it is.” My finger hovered over play.
“Don’t!” Martin lunged, snatching the laptop, hugging it.
“Vivian, let’s tal
