Bruno tried to speak several times. Each time, my cold stare shut him down before a single word left his mouth.
The moment I got home and sat down, the doorbell rang.
Bruno stood on the other side, spine rigid, holding two gift bags.
I pressed the button to let him in.
He walked through the door and set the bags on the console table in the entryway. He didn't dare bring them into the living room.
"Agatha, this is a written guarantee I prepared."
He held out a sealed letter. "I've laid everything out clearly. From now on, I will have absolutely no private contact with Genevieve. All work-related communication at the company will be handled by someone else."
I didn't take it. I just looked up at him.
He immediately set the letter on the coffee table, then pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and slid the glowing screen across to me.
"Take my phone. Go through everything. Search whatever you want."
He added quickly, "My messages with Genevieve are strictly work. Project updates. Nothing else."
I glanced at the screen. In the chat app, Genevieve's conversation thread was exactly as he described: one dry work message after another, timestamps scattered, every line about project milestones.
No casual greetings. No personal chatter. Impossibly clean.
I didn't pick up the phone. Bruno saw my expression and rushed to fill the silence.
"I know you're upset. I really was just trying to avoid making things awkward."
I knew exactly what that spotless chat history was. He'd scrubbed it before coming here.
"You don't need to be so nervous," I said flatly.
Bruno's shoulders visibly loosened. He shifted half a step closer, as if drawn by instinct, then caught himself and stayed where he was.
"Agatha, can you forgive me?"
He searched my face. "The engagement banquet, I'll make it right. And Genevieve, I'll handle it."
"You should head home." I didn't answer his question. "It's late."
Bruno's gaze darkened, but he forced the words out.
"I'll come back tomorrow, then."
He retreated to the foyer. "I brought some of your favorite snacks, by the way."
When I said nothing, he managed one more apologetic smile before turning to leave.
The moment the door closed, I picked up my phone.
"I need you to look into two things," I told my assistant. "First, everything there is to know about Genevieve Fox's background. Second, Bruno Henson's financial activity over the past three months."