Brief Encounters

Part 18

As I watched Jeanna drift into sleep, her face softened by exhaustion and serenity, I couldn't shake the nagging thoughts circling in my head. Every detail about the leaks kept coming back, replaying over and over. Patrick's subtle comments, the perfectly timed photos, the inexplicable way private moments had made their way to the tabloids-it didn't add up. And if it was Patrick... if he had been the one undermining us, betraying my trust... I had to know.

The thought felt like a weight in my chest. Patrick had been by my side for years. He wasn't just an assistant; he was someone I considered loyal to a fault. But trust isn't bulletproof, and I couldn't ignore the questions clawing at me anymore.

I'd arranged for an investigator to look into it. Quietly. This wasn't something I could handle on instinct alone. That evening, I stood behind a mirrored window in a bare, unmarked room, watching Patrick as the investigation began.

He sat at the steel table in the center of the room, his posture composed, his hands clasped lightly. His face was calm, but I knew Patrick well enough to catch the vigilance in his eyes. He knew what this was. He knew I was watching.

Detective Stratham, the man I'd chosen for this task, walked in and settled across from Patrick. Stratham didn't rush, letting the silence weigh on the air before he began.

"Mr. Jephson," Stratham said, his voice steady, "I trust you understand why you're here."

Patrick's expression didn't falter. "I understand I'm under investigation," he replied, his voice smooth, almost disarming. "Though I can't imagine what for."

I crossed my arms, watching him closely. I wanted to believe in his innocence, but his composure felt too practiced, his confidence too absolute.

"You're aware of the leaks to the press," Stratham said, opening a thin file on the table. Inside were blurry photographs and printed snippets of private information-details only someone close to me could know. "Private moments. Information that never should have left the palace walls. All leaked. And you've been present at nearly every one of these breaches."

Patrick leaned back slightly in his chair. "I've served this family loyally for years, Detective," he said, his tone controlled but firm. "I would never betray them."

Stratham didn't miss a beat. "Then explain this." He pushed a photo across the table. It was one of Jeanna and me, taken in what should have been one of the most secure estates in the country. "You were responsible for security that evening. How did this happen?"

Patrick's jaw tightened for just a moment, but he stayed composed. "I was," he admitted. "And I did everything by the book. If there was a breach, it didn't come from me."

Behind the glass, I felt a pang of uncertainty. His words were logical, his demeanor steady. But I couldn't shake the doubt growing in my chest.

Stratham pressed on. "If not you, then who?" he asked. "Paul, perhaps? He left suddenly, didn't he? Or Simon, the driver who's been around long enough to blend into the wallpaper but hears everything. You were in charge, Jephson. You were the one with the access and the means."

Patrick's voice didn't waver. "I trust Simon implicitly," he said firmly. "And Paul left to pursue his dreams. If you're suggesting either of them-"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Stratham interrupted, his tone sharp. "But the facts remain. Someone close to the prince is betraying his trust. If it's not you, then you'd better start giving me names."

I studied Patrick through the glass, searching his face for any sign of guilt, any crack in the mask. But he was a master of control, just as he had always been. His calm was unsettling. Was it the confidence of an innocent man, or the calculated poise of someone hiding something?

The interrogation eventually ended, but I wasn't left with answers. Patrick walked out of the room with the same composed expression he'd worn when he walked in. He nodded at me in the hallway, his eyes meeting mine briefly, and then he was gone.

But this wasn't just about Patrick. I'd instructed the investigator to look into Simon and Paul as well. Simon, who had been a fixture in my life for as long as I could remember. Always reliable, always quiet. Had he seen and heard more than he should? And Paul, Jeanna's assistant who'd left so abruptly to pursue painting-an excuse that seemed thin in hindsight.

I wanted to believe in all of them, in the years of loyalty and service they'd shown. But now, every familiar face felt like a potential mask.

The betrayal, if it existed, wasn't just an attack on my privacy. It was an attack on Jeanna, on the fragile space we'd tried to carve out for ourselves in a world that refused to give us peace. And if someone close to me was responsible, I needed to find out who.