Additional footage shows the same woman leaving six minutes later with an object concealed inside a document pouch.”
My father turned toward Fiona.
“Tell her she’s wrong.”
Fiona looked at him, and something almost childlike crossed her face.
She had expected him to fix this as he had fixed every smaller disaster: by dismissing the complaint, blaming someone else, or calling her special until facts became impolite.
But he could not laugh away recorded footage.
“She’s wrong,” Fiona said weakly.
Agent Voss removed a tablet from her case and placed it on the bench.
The video began without sound.
The timestamp appeared first.
Then a hallway.
Then Fiona, wearing civilian clothes and a visitor badge, glancing over her shoulder before entering the presentation office.
The next angle showed her leaving with a flat pouch pressed beneath her arm.
No one spoke.
The video ended.
Fiona’s face hardened again, but now anger had replaced performance.
She pointed at me.
“This is because of her.
She always gets to be the mysterious one.
She disappears for months, never explains anything, and everyone is supposed to respect her silence.
I did one thing for one night, and she destroys my life.”
“One thing?” Donovan asked.
She turned on him.
“It was for the engagement pictures.
I was going to put it back.”
“You built our relationship around this story.”
“That’s not true.”
“You told my parents you completed the course.
You told me Wraith recommended you.
You used that story when you applied for the security position with my company.”
The last sentence changed the temperature of the range.
I looked at Donovan.
“What position?”
He did not take his eyes off Fiona.
“Deputy director of protective operations.
The appointment was supposed to be announced tonight.”
Malcolm swore softly.
Fiona moved toward Donovan.
“I was qualified for that job.”
“You submitted military credentials.”
“I have experience.”
“You submitted this badge as evidence of advanced qualification.”
She stopped.
Agent Voss looked up from her notes.
“Do you have copies of that application?”
Donovan nodded.
“Yes.”
“Preserve them.
Do not alter or delete any associated messages.”
My father threw up his hands.
“Now we’re involving his company? Over a piece of metal?”
Donovan faced him.
“My company protects people in high-risk environments.
False credentials are not decoration.”
Arthur’s outrage shifted targets.
“You’re going to abandon her because she wanted to impress you?”
“No,” Donovan said.
“I’m leaving because she lied every time I gave her a chance to tell the truth.”
He removed the engagement ring from Fiona’s left hand before she seemed to understand what he was doing.
He did not yank it or make a show of it.
He simply held out his palm.
She curled her fingers into a fist.
“Don’t.”
“Fiona.”
“You said you loved me.”
“I loved the person you described.”
Her face crumpled, but the tears came with anger rather than remorse.
“You’re humiliating me.”
Donovan looked around at the guests, the stolen badge, the open file, and the frozen video frame on the tablet.
“No.
I’m refusing to help you continue.”
After a long moment, Fiona pulled off the ring and slapped it into his hand.
My father moved to comfort her, but she shoved past him.
“This is all your fault,” she said to me.
I closed
