Not fear of me.

Fear of the machinery he could hear, finally, closing around his family — the slow, patient, unbuyable machinery he had spent thirty years staying one step ahead of, and had just, through his daughter’s vanity, been delivered straight into.

“Then explain this,” Kelvin said.

He lifted his phone and connected it to the screen, and a voice recording replaced the forged statements.

Chapter 8 — Her Own Voice

Seraphina’s own voice filled the pavilion.