“About my childhood,” she answered.

For half a second, the smug look slipped off his face. Then he laughed, short and hard. “Careful, sweetheart. You always did have a wild imagination.”

Behind him, her mother, Diane, sighed. “Please don’t wreck your own wedding night over ancient misunderstandings.”

I stayed by the window and said nothing. Mason took my quiet for fear.

He leaned in toward Sophia, his body angled like a threat. “Your husband can’t shield you from me. He just shuffles paperwork for people who actually count.”

That was exactly the mistake I’d been waiting for. “And what happens if she does speak up, Mason?” I asked.

He turned to me, eyes full of contempt. “She loses everything she’s ever had. Her mother loses everything. And you find out just how fast a nice, quiet little life can fall apart.”

My phone lay face down on the table, patched into Karen’s live evidence channel. Every word was being preserved under the state’s one-party consent law, since I was part of the conversation.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” I said, “for a man in your spot.”

“I am sure,” Mason sneered. “I own judges, cops, accountants—anybody in this city worth owning.”

Sophia held his stare. “Did you own me too?”

His expression went flat and clinical. “For a good many years, yes.”

Diane whispered, “Mason, stop it. Right now.”

But his arrogance had already loosened his tongue. He stepped in closer to Sophia and dropped his voice to a hiss.

“You should’ve kept those scars better hidden. Your husband’s going to see you differently now that he knows.”