Chapter 3: What the Phone Remembered
The name on the screen was Thomas Cray.
Dominic's brother.
I hadn't known Dominic had a brother until that moment.
Nobody on staff talked about family.
You learned quickly that personal questions about Dominic Cray were questions you only asked once.
But the name was there.
Right at the top.
Bold.
Recent.
The last message in the thread was timestamped eleven minutes ago.
*It's done.
Stay calm.
He still can't hear anything.*
My legs went unsteady.
Dominic was watching me.
He had seen my face change.
"What did you read?" he asked.
I looked at him.
Then at the phone in the guard's hand.
"The name at the top of that thread," I said carefully.
"Is Thomas Cray your brother?"
The conservatory went very quiet.
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
He turned to the guard and held out his hand.
The guard placed the phone in his palm without a word.
Dominic read the screen.
He read it again.
Then he set the phone down on the side table beside his leather chair, very slowly, the way you set something down when you're afraid of what you'll do if you're still holding it.
Victor had stopped struggling.
The two guards flanking him had his arms pinned, but he had gone still on his own.
He was watching Dominic's face with the careful attention of a man calculating how much danger he was in.
"Eleven minutes ago," Dominic said.
He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular.
"Sir—" Victor started.
"He thought I still couldn't hear." Dominic picked the phone back up.
Read the message again out loud, slowly, like each word cost him something.
"*It's done.
Stay calm.
He still can't hear anything.*" He lowered the phone.
"Who sent this to you?"
Victor said nothing.
"I heard my own voice for the first time in three years eleven minutes ago," Dominic said.
"And the first thing my brother did was tell you to stay calm." He looked at Victor directly.
"How long has he known what you put in my ear?"
"I want a lawyer."
"You're not under arrest." Dominic's voice was almost pleasant.
"You're a guest in my home.
Guests can leave whenever they like." He glanced at the guards.
"Open the door."
The guards stepped back.
Victor didn't move.
"Go ahead," Dominic said.
"Walk out.
My brother is somewhere in this city.
He'll get your message.
Maybe he'll help you." A pause.
"Or you can tell me what I want to know, and I'll remember that when I decide what happens next."
Victor's jaw worked.
His eyes moved to me.
Then to Marcus, still pressed against my side.
"The woman and the child had nothing to do with this," he said finally.
"I know that."
"Then let them go."
"I will." Dominic looked at me.
"After you tell me how long."
Victor closed his eyes.
"Four years," he said.
"Thomas approached me four years ago.
Before the hospital.
Before any of it."
The number landed in the room like something dropped from a height.
Four years.
That meant the plan to deafen Dominic had existed before the accident.
Before the explosion at the warehouse that everyone assumed was the cause.
Before the infection theory, the Prague whisper, all of it.
It had been designed.
"He said you were going to cut him out," Victor continued, his voice flattening into something that sounded almost like relief.
Like a man who had been holding a secret so long that releasing it felt better than keeping it.
"The business restructure.
Thomas was going to lose his share.
Lose his position.
Lose everything.
He said you'd already decided."
"I had," Dominic said.
"He said he just needed time.
That if you couldn't run things for a while, he could stabilize his position.
Build something of his own.
He said it wouldn't be permanent."
"Three years isn't temporary, Victor."
"I know that." Victor's voice cracked slightly on the last word.
"I know."
Marcus tugged my sleeve.
"Mommy.
I'm tired."
I crouched down and lifted him.
He was heavier than he looked, or maybe my arms were just shaking.
"I know, baby," I whispered.
"Almost done."
Dominic looked at us.
Something moved across his face — not softness exactly, but awareness.
Like he was seeing us clearly for the first time since the conservatory door opened.
"Take him to the east sitting room," he said to one of the guards.
"Stay with them.
Make sure they have whatever they need."
"We don't need—" I started.
"Elena." He said my name like he'd known it for years.
"Please."
I looked at him for a moment.
Then I nodded and followed the guard out.
The last thing I heard before the door closed behind me was Dominic's voice, very quiet, asking Victor one more question.
"Where is Thomas right now?"
I didn't hear the answer.
May you like
But twenty minutes later, when the guard's radio crackled with a terse two-word response from somewhere outside the mansion, his expression told me everything.
Thomas Cray was already gone.
