Chapter 2

Emma’s POV

The launch ended abruptly.

The press interview scheduled for an hour later was canceled. Sweating PR staff hurried the reporters toward the exits. I was taken into the VIP lounge. When the heavy wooden door closed, most of the noise outside disappeared.

The atmosphere inside was tense. Representatives from our two main investors sat grim-faced on the couch, their coffees untouched. “Mr. Hayes, what exactly happened tonight? The investor roadshow is next week. If the project’s core audio is subject to a serious copyright dispute—especially one involving the family of a crew member who died at sea—our risk team will never approve the funding.”

“Please don’t worry, Mr. Parker. This is simply a minor internal misunderstanding.”

Vivian’s voice was warm and earnest. “Ms. Bennett handles technical restoration at the archive. She isn’t very familiar with the company’s commercial development procedures. The recording was left by her father, yes, but she also took part in handing over the catalog during the preparation stage. She thought the materials would only be used for an internal exhibition. The public release has been an emotional adjustment for her.”

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, I let out a cold laugh and turned around. “You certainly know how to make up a story, Ms. Clarke. When did I ever help hand over a catalog for The Last Tide? That master tape was in my personal climate-controlled cabinet. It was never even uploaded to the archive’s shared server!”

Vivian’s smile stiffened. Her eyes reddened slightly as she turned toward Adrian. “Adrian, when Legal collected the historical records, we followed the list you approved… I didn’t realize Emma was so sensitive about this recording. Maybe I should take down the promotional film and hire a voice actor to record a replacement. We’d just have to scrap the entire publicity schedule…”

At the words “scrap the entire publicity schedule,” both investors frowned harder.

“There’s no need to take it down,” Adrian said, cutting her off.

He loosened his tie and walked over to me. With only a handful of us in the room, he no longer bothered to hide the scrutiny and displeasure in his eyes. “Emma, this was our annual launch. Mr. Parker and Mr. Morgan flew in especially for it. I can overlook your outburst onstage as grief over your father. Now apologize to them and clarify that you misunderstood the project schedule.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him.

I stared at his sharply defined face. An invisible hand seemed to close around my heart. Even breathing hurt. “You want me to apologize? Adrian, that was the last recording my dad made before his boat sank in 1998! You signed a family authorization without my permission and handed his final words to Vivian as a sales pitch for her real estate project. And now you want me to apologize and say I misunderstood?”

“The recording has been cleaned up and mixed with instrumental music. No one except you could possibly recognize it as your father’s private final message.” His tone was cold and flat, as if he were reading a financial report. “And I had Legal check. The original administrative rights to those rescue communications from the nineties belong to the publicly supported Maritime Sound Archive. As its largest financial backer, the company has the right to use nonclassified materials in its collection. I signed that family consent form to spare Legal a lengthy internal rights-clearance process.”

“Spare them a process?” My fingertips shook with anger. “When you signed it, did you even think about what was on that tape? Those were the last three minutes of his life!”

“It’s thirty seconds of background sound. It won’t damage your father’s reputation or affect any of your actual rights.” Adrian’s patience had clearly run out. He glanced at his watch and lowered his voice further. “First, we contain tonight’s publicity fallout. As for how the file got from your private cabinet into the shared library, I’ll have Internal Audit investigate. You’ll get an explanation.”

Mr. Parker tapped the table, eager to take the opening. “Exactly, Mrs. Hayes. You’re family. As long as the chain of rights is sound, all we need is a written statement from you and your cooperation with a press release. Then we can put tonight behind us.”

Vivian immediately offered me a pen and a document she had already prepared. “Emma, I drafted it for you. Just sign, and PR can get those trending posts taken down right away…”

Smack!

I knocked the statement and the pen out of her hands.

The papers scattered across the marble floor. The pen rolled to Adrian’s shoes.

Vivian gasped and instinctively stepped behind him.

My chest heaved. My gaze cut across Vivian before settling on Adrian. “I had nothing to do with this project, and I never authorized a single second. I will not apologize. I want the complete access records and every document in the authorization chain. Find out who opened my vault and who copied my master tape. I want every step accounted for.”

The air in the lounge turned icy.

Adrian glanced down at the folder by his feet. When he looked up, the eyes that were usually so controlled held open hostility for the first time.

He waved the investors and Vivian out.

Once the door closed, he stepped closer and looked down at me. “Emma Bennett, do you really have to turn this into a disaster at an event like this?”

“Am I making trouble, or are you stealing?” I tipped my chin up. My eyes burned, but I forced the tears back.

“We’re submitting our public-listing materials to the securities regulators later this year. Cultural tourism is central to our valuation. Dozens of financial news outlets were here tonight!” His words struck hard and cold. “Over a few seconds of background audio that’s barely recognizable, you’re willing to throw away six months of the team’s work and send our share price and valuation crashing? When did you become so unreasonable?”

I stood frozen, all the strength draining out of me.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what that recording meant to me.

During the two years I had worked on restoring it, there had been nights when I pushed myself until I vomited blood. Adrian had come to the archive in the middle of the night to take me home. When the sounds of the storm kept me awake, he had rubbed my back in the dark until I fell asleep.

He knew everything.

But on his scales, my father’s dying words and the boundary I had protected for four years weighed less than one of Vivian’s flagship projects. Less than a pretty valuation printed in the Hayes Group’s prospectus.

From beginning to end, his only concern had been losing control of the project.

Never whether I was hurting.

I looked at that handsome, unfamiliar face and suddenly found the whole thing absurd. I said nothing more. I bent to pick up my clutch, walked past him, and left.