Chapter 3 - The Hidden Phone
That night had begun with a dinner party downstairs.
Twenty guests.
Business partners.
Family friends.
Her father’s old colleagues.
And Meera, wearing Cassie’s necklace like a declaration.
Cassie had seen it across the table and gone still.
Tony’s hand closed around her thigh under the table.
A warning.
Don’t.
Meera smiled.
A slow, private smile.
So Cassie did something she had never done before.
She stood.
In front of everyone.
And said, “That necklace belongs to me.”
The table froze.
Tony laughed first.
Lightly.
Like she had made an embarrassing joke.
“Cassie’s had too much wine.”
But Cassie had not had any wine.
Not one sip.
She looked at Meera.
“Take it off.”
Meera placed one hand against the diamond and said, “Tony said you didn’t care for it.”
That was when the room changed.
People looked at Tony.
Tony looked at Cassie.
And behind his charming smile, she saw rage.
Not later.
Not privately.
Right there.
He stood, took her elbow, and said, “We need to talk upstairs.”
Cassie knew not to go.
Her body knew before her mind admitted it.
But shame, habit, fear, and the weight of every person watching pushed her up the staircase.
In the bedroom, he locked the door.
Meera followed.
That was when Cassie understood the dinner had never been a mistake.
It had been a test.
Could Tony humiliate her in public and still make her apologize in private?
Could Meera wear her necklace and watch her be corrected?
Could Cassie be trained to accept the mistress as part of the house?
Tony thought yes.
The hidden phone was the only reason Cassie dared to answer no.
She had placed it there before dinner.
Not because she knew exactly what would happen.
Because two weeks earlier, her attorney had said, “Cassie, if he never leaves marks in public, you need proof from the room where he does.”
That attorney’s name was Mara Ellison.
Cassie had gone to her after waking up with a bruise on her shoulder and no memory of falling.
Tony told her she bumped into the closet door.
Meera texted her later:
You’re always so dramatic.
That was when Cassie stopped believing accidents that only happened around people who benefited from them.
Now the phone was in her hand.
Tony was staring at it.
Meera was no longer smiling.
Downstairs, laughter from the dinner party had gone quiet.
Maybe someone had heard raised voices.
Maybe not.
Rich houses are built to absorb ugly sounds.
Cassie lifted the phone slightly.
“It uploaded automatically.”
Tony’s face tightened.
“You’re bluffing.”
Cassie looked at his expensive watch.
Then at Meera’s necklace.
Then at her own bruised arm.
“No.”
May you like
Meera’s voice sharpened.
“Uploaded to who?”
