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I tapped the screen.
His voice filled the room. Familiar. Confident. Stripped of polish.
The silence that followed was absolute. No laughter. No breathing. Even the waitstaff froze.
Serena’s hand slipped from Mark’s arm.
“That’s fake,” Mark snapped, standing so abruptly his chair tipped backward. “She’s manipulating this. Anyone can fabricate audio now.”
I didn’t argue. I let the recording continue.
“The agreement is clean,” his recorded voice went on. “She won’t touch the equity. Worst case, I walk away with everything that matters.”
Serena stood slowly. Her movements were careful, as if she were afraid sudden motion might shatter something inside her.
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