Chapter 7 - THE WHISPER OF BLACKMAIL
Priya stood motionless by the base of the Diplodocus exhibit, the phone still pressed against her ear long after the dial tone had taken over.
"Priya?" Marcus’s voice cut through the noise of the hall. He reached out, gently touching her elbow. "What is it? Who was on the phone?"
Priya lowered her hand slowly, staring down at the screen. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked up at Marcus—at the genuine warmth in his eyes, the trust he had built with her over weeks of shared silence and broken barriers—and felt a cold knot twist in her stomach.
"Nobody," she lied, forcing a tight, unconvincing smile. "Just... a wrong number. Telemarketers."
Marcus frowned, his sharp instincts instantly picking up on the shift in her posture. He had spent twenty years reading boardrooms and detecting deception in negotiations; he knew the exact cadence of a guarded truth.
"Priya," he said, his voice dropping into a firm, gentle authority. "You went completely white. That wasn't a telemarketer."
Before Priya could invent another excuse, Liam and Emma ran back over, tugging urgently on both of their coats.
Look! Look at this map! Liam signed rapidly. We want to see the gem room next!
Priya forced her expression to smooth over, turning to the children and signing back enthusiastically, Lead the way!
May you like
Throughout the remainder of the museum trip, however, the invisible weight of the phone call hung heavily over her. Every flash of camera light from tourists, every muffled announcement over the PA system, felt like a silent threat.
---
