The Microphone Was Still On

So I let them talk.

And when the dinner finally ended and people began to drift toward the door, Grant caught my eye and tilted his head toward the empty bar.

I followed him.

“You were right to be worried,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Rhett came to me a few months ago.

He wanted to know if I’d be interested in sponsoring a new show.

Said it would be edgier than yours.”

I felt the floor shift under me, but I didn’t show it.

“Did he say who the host would be?”

“He said it would be a duo.

Him and a woman named Aubrey.

He said they had a concept called ‘The Other Woman.'”

Grant paused.

“And he asked for your sponsor list.

I didn’t give it to him, but he might have found another way.”

I nodded slowly, my mind racing.

“Thank you, Grant,” I said.

“You’ve been more helpful than you know.”

I walked out of the hotel into the cool night air and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, letting it all settle.

Rhett wasn’t just having an affair.

He was building a rival show with Aubrey, using my own marriage as the launchpad.

And I was going to find out everything.

Chapter 6 – The Other Woman
The next morning, I went to the studio before dawn.

I didn’t tell Rhett I was going.

I didn’t tell anyone.

I sat at my desk and opened the shared drive where we kept all our episode files, guest contacts, and sponsor contracts.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I knew I’d know it when I found it.

I scrolled past old recordings and interview notes until I saw a folder I didn’t recognize.

It was labeled “TOW.”

I clicked on it.

Inside was a pitch deck.

The title page read: “The Other Woman: A Podcast About Betrayal, Power, and Starting Over.”

The host was listed as Aubrey Lane.

The producer was listed as Rhett Hayes.

I felt my stomach turn.

I opened the deck and read every slide.

It used my episode formats, my guest booking templates, my sponsor contact list.

There was a section called “Launch Strategy” that said the first episode would feature “a real-life scandal that will get national attention.”

And then I saw it.

A note in the margin, in Rhett’s handwriting: “Let her catch us.

Aubrey can play the victim.

We’ll have the audio.

She won’t be able to deny it.”

My hands were shaking.

I closed the laptop and sat there in the silence of the studio, and for the first time, I realized that the kiss I walked in on wasn’t a moment of weakness.

It was a performance.

They had planned it.

But there was something they didn’t plan.

The recorder was already running before they even entered the room.

I had set it to capture background audio for the episode intro.

So I had everything.

I opened the recording app and scrolled back six weeks.

There was a file I had never listened to, labeled with a date when Rhett had been in the studio alone.

I played it.

Rhett’s voice came through the speakers.

“You need to sound surprised,” he was saying.

“When she walks in, just look shocked.

Let her be the one who loses control.

We’ll have the audio, and then we’ll launch.”

Aubrey’s voice answered: “And what about the money?”

“It’s already moved,” he said.

“The new account is set up.

Once the scandal hits, we’ll have everything we need.”

I stopped the recording.

I sat in the dark studio and listened to the hum of the equipment, and I felt something shift inside me.

I had spent days feeling betrayed.

Now I felt something else.

I felt ready.

I called my attorney and told him to meet me at the studio.

Then I called Grant and asked him to hold all sponsor payments until further notice.

And then I called Simone, my producer friend, and asked her to come over.

When she walked in and saw my face, she didn’t ask if I was okay.

She asked, “What do you need?”

“I need you to listen to something,” I said.

I played her the six-week-old recording.

When it ended, she looked at me with wide eyes.

“They were going to steal your show,” she said.

“No,” I said.

“They were going to steal my life.

But they made a mistake.

They left the recorder running.

And I have every second.”

I looked at the waveform on the screen, still glowing red.

And for the first time, I smiled.

Chapter 7 – The Six-Week-Old Confession
I didn’t sleep that night.

I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop and a cup of coffee that went cold before I took a sip, and I listened.