Chapter 14 — The Recording at the Café
Lila chose a café with glass walls, expensive pastries, and enough noise to hide a bad decision.
Ryan chose the seat facing the door because guilty men enjoy pretending they are careful.
I chose the table behind a pillar, wearing a black cap, a plain coat, and no expression.
The recorder Marcus had given me sat inside a folded newspaper on the table.
It looked like rubbish.
It was about to become evidence.
Ryan arrived first, checking his phone every few seconds.
He looked tired.
Good.
Fear was starting to cost him sleep.
Lila arrived eight minutes late and made him stand to kiss her cheek.
Not because she loved him.
Because she wanted him trained.
“Victor is nervous,” she said before sitting.
Ryan glanced around. “Keep your voice down.”
She smiled. “Now you care about caution?”
“I care about not going down because you kept files you were told to delete.”
Lila’s smile cooled.
“And I care about not being blamed for something your signature made possible.”
There it was again.
Signature.
Ryan rubbed his forehead. “You said you handled the revised schedule.”
“I handled what Victor asked me to handle.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Their voices were low, but the recorder was close enough.
Lila leaned forward. “You promised me this would be over before the audit.”
Ryan looked out at the wet street. “It will be.”
“How?”
“Victor is moving the original.”
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.
Lila’s face changed. “When?”
Ryan hesitated.
“Soon.”
“Ryan.”
“Friday, probably.”
The word landed cleanly.
Friday.
I kept my eyes on the untouched pastry in front of me.
Lila sat back. “So after Friday, there is nothing connecting me?”
Ryan did not answer quickly enough.
Her laugh was small and sharp. “You arrogant fool.”
“Careful.”
“No, you be careful. I did not spend two years keeping your mess tidy so your wife could get half of what is left when this collapses.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Ella gets nothing.”
“Does she know that?”
“She knows what I let her know.”
Lila smiled cruelly. “Your little wife in the cheap flat?”
Ryan looked irritated. “Leave her out of it.”
“That is adorable. You still pretend to be decent.”
“I said leave her out.”
“You told me she was simple.”
The word struck exactly where it had before.
Simple.
This time, I let it become fuel.
Ryan’s voice dropped. “She is simple. That is why she works.”
“She does not ask. She does not push.”
Lila laughed. “Then divorce her.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“Why?”
Ryan hesitated, because he did not know what I owned.
“There are timing issues.”
Lila tapped one red nail against her cup.
“I am tired of timing.”
“You will get what I promised.”
“And Victor?”
“He will protect himself first.”
“Then I need my own protection.”
Ryan looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means I kept copies.”
He went pale.
I closed the newspaper, leaving the recorder running one second longer.
At the counter, the barista asked if I wanted a receipt.
I looked towards Ryan and Lila, still whispering over documents they thought only three people understood.
“Yes,” I said. “I like records.”
Outside, I sent the audio to Marcus. His reply came in less than a minute.
Friday confirmed. Lila kept copies. Excellent.
Ryan had just paid for the coffee, the mistress, and the evidence.
He even left the receipt behind.
I picked it up before stepping into the rain.
Small records become large weapons when men insist they have left no trace.
Friday was no longer a rumour.
It was a date their lies would have to move in daylight.
And daylight, unlike loyalty, could be summoned on purpose if the right woman was patient enough.