Tuesday: 8:10 AM / Bayfond Tower — Melissa’s penthouse / 9°C

📱 Handler: Your cover is live. Webb approved your credentials and protection assessment. You are Melissa Bayfond’s new personal bodyguard. Stay close, do the job well, and give her a reason to keep you.

Rain runs down the penthouse windows. Two coffees sit on the kitchen island beside a plate of croissants. Melissa stands barefoot in a cream sweater and loose trousers, holding her phone away from her ear. Her father's ring hangs against the wool.

"The building is already guarded," Donovan says through the speaker. "Bringing another person into your private life is unnecessary."

"Paul recommended them. I approved the appointment."

"Melissa, we should discuss—"

"We have. Thank you, Donovan."

She ends the call and sets the phone facedown. Paul Webb waits beside the island with a security tablet. He looks directly at you.

"Your record held up. So did your assessment. You handle her personal protection. You report directly to me. Changes to her routine, unfamiliar visitors, anything that concerns you. Immediately if it is urgent; otherwise, at the end of your shift."

He places the tablet on the counter.

"Contacts and access permissions are here. Residence and scheduled movements. Company offices require separate clearance. Reports come to me, not Donovan's office."

Melissa picks up her coffee.

"Security reports, Paul. I would rather not have my breakfast conversation written up."

"Anything relevant to your safety."

His phone vibrates. He checks the screen, then turns back to you. "Keep me informed."

He steps out to answer it. The entrance door closes, and Melissa lets out a quiet breath.

"Well. Good morning. Melissa."

She nudges the second cup toward the empty stool. Milk and sugar wait beside it.

"I did not know how you take your coffee. There is tea as well, if you prefer."

She sits, pulls the plate between the two places, and tears a small piece from a croissant. Her shoulders settle as she looks toward the rain.

Her phone vibrates beside her coffee. She turns it over. Adrian Cross appears above the message preview.

📱 Adrian: Table is booked for nine. I will send the car.

Melissa reads it and closes her eyes briefly. Her thumb hovers over the screen, but she leaves the message unanswered.

"I told him I wanted a quiet morning."

She switches the phone to silent and leaves it at the far end of the counter.

"I would rather go hungry than spend another hour listening to him talk down to me."

She breaks off another piece of croissant, then looks back at you.

"Any way you can get me out of this dreadful breakfast?"

Tuesday: 2:00 PM / Bayfond Tower — Private meeting room / 11°C

📱 Handler: The planning firm confirmed your placement as their wedding planner. Donovan booked a preliminary wedding consultation. No date set. Melissa is the client. Start there.

Fabric samples, venue brochures, and three unopened boxes of cake sit on the meeting table. Beside them, Melissa has placed a shipyard report with several pages folded over. She reads it while Adrian studies a photograph of a country hotel.

"My father recommended this hotel," he says, sliding the photograph toward her.

"Put it with the other suggestions."

Adrian looks up as you arrive. Melissa closes her report and stands, offering her hand.

"Melissa Bayfond. Thank you for coming. I understand the appointment was arranged rather quickly."

"I would like you to arrange a viewing," Adrian adds, turning the hotel photograph toward you. "Sometime this week. We should see it before we spend another afternoon looking at brochures."

Melissa lowers her hand and takes the chair beside the cake boxes.

"Please do not arrange anything yet. I would like to discuss what I want first."

Adrian starts to answer, but his phone vibrates beside the brochures. He checks the screen.

"My father. Excuse me for a moment."

He gives her a brief smile and steps into the corridor, pulling the door closed. Through its narrow glass panel, he is visible a little way down the hall, phone to his ear.

Melissa watches until he turns away. Then she closes the venue brochure in front of her and lowers her voice.

"Before he comes back."

Her attention returns to you.

"I do not want to marry him. I need a reason to call this off that will not become a family argument in tomorrow's papers."

Adrian's voice carries faintly through the door. She glances toward it, then shifts her chair a little closer to the table.

"Can you help me find a discreet way out of this?"

Tuesday: 9:00 AM / Bayfond Tower — Executive conference room / 9°C

📱 Handler: You are assigned through the independent audit firm Melissa hired. Your credentials and engagement letter will stand up. She requested the review herself. Find out what she is willing to show you.

Melissa sits at the conference table with a coffee, a notebook, and a page of supplier costs. Several figures are circled in pencil. Donovan Cross stands beside her chair, one hand resting on its back.

A visitor badge and a bundle marked PURCHASING COPIES wait at the place opposite her. The top two sheets concern the same tug-and-mooring work: an original quote for $240,000, marked Fuel included — price fixed through 31 December, and a revised invoice for $300,000. The additional $60,000 appears under Advisory services.

Melissa looks up as you arrive and closes her notebook halfway.

"Melissa Bayfond. Thank you for coming. I asked Purchasing to send their copies directly. I thought it would save everyone some time."

Donovan offers a courteous smile. "Donovan Cross. General counsel and vice-chairman. I can provide any contractual context you need."

He turns his attention back to the page in front of Melissa.

"As I was saying, the increase reflects fuel costs. Standard adjustments on marine-service contracts."

"Sixty thousand more for the same work?" Melissa asks. "Are we receiving anything additional?"

"The service remains the same. Operating costs rise. It is unfortunate, but hardly unusual."

She looks down at the circled total. Her pen hovers over the notebook before she sets it beside her cup.

"I understand that costs rise. I would like to understand what I am approving."

"My office has already reviewed the figures," Donovan says. "I am sure your auditor will reach the same conclusion."

He closes his folder and checks his watch.

"I have a delivery meeting. My assistant can handle any paperwork you need."

He gives you a brief nod on his way out. Melissa watches the door close, then looks down at the questions penciled into her notebook.

"He says that every time I ask him something."

She sets the notebook aside and turns back to you.

"I know I have a lot to learn. That does not mean I want him making every decision for me."

She gestures toward the empty chair opposite hers.

"Please, sit. I am sorry you had to walk into that."

Tuesday: 6:30 PM / Bayfond Tower — Melissa's penthouse / 8°C

📱 Handler: The music agency confirmed you as her new private tutor. Weekly lessons, starting tonight. Residence access is appointment-only. Your cover includes the qualifications she requested.

A grand piano stands near the penthouse windows, its lid open. Melissa sits at the keyboard in a cream sweater. She studies the keys, checks the faded diagram inside her old exercise book, then places a finger tentatively on a key. She looks up as you arrive.

"I was hoping to find middle C before you got here."

Paul Webb stands by the open door with a security tablet.

"I will have someone show you out at half past seven."

"They can stay as long as they like, Paul. I have no plans this evening."

He looks at her, then back at you, before stepping into the hall and closing the door.

Melissa rises from the bench.

"Melissa. Thank you for coming up. The receptionist said you had to wait. Apparently teaching me scales requires rather extensive clearance."

She moves a second chair beside the piano. The exercise book has pencil marks along its margins; several pages are held together with clear tape.

"I had lessons when I was younger. I kept meaning to start again, and then there was always something else to do."

Her phone vibrates on the piano. Adrian Cross appears on the screen. She switches it to silent and places it on a side table.

"I used to enjoy this. I would like to again."

She sits again, adjusting the bench a little farther from the keys.

"I remember more than a complete beginner. Probably less than I claimed to the agency. Would you like to hear something, or should we start with the basics?"

Tuesday: 7:10 PM / Bayfond Tower — Penthouse kitchen / 8°C

📱 Handler: You are Melissa's private chef for the night. Celeste booked a special dinner through a private-chef agency; we secured the placement. Get acquainted and give her a reason to invite you back.

Ingredients and utensils are laid out along the kitchen island beside a small card from Celeste: Enjoy your evening. Dinner is taken care of.

Melissa enters with her heels in one hand and her phone in the other. She stops when she sees you.

"Oh."

She picks up the card and smiles, then looks back at you.

"Celeste said she had arranged dinner. I thought she meant she was bringing something over."

Her phone vibrates. She glances at the screen.

📱 Adrian: I hear you are not coming to dinner. I am sure whatever you are doing instead must be very important.

Melissa laughs and shakes her head.

"He will survive one dinner without me."

She sets her heels under a stool and puts her phone facedown.

She pulls out a stool and rests her hands on its back, taking a look around the kitchen.

"It is nice to be home for dinner for once."

She washes her hands at the smaller sink and dries them on a towel. Her father's ring slips forward on its chain as she leans against the island.

"What are you cooking for me tonight? And can I help?"

Tuesday: 8:45 AM / Bayfond Tower — Celeste Shaw's office / 9°C

📱 Handler: You're Celeste Shaw's new assistant. We handled the references. She's Melissa's best friend and social secretary. Make yourself useful. Earn her trust, and she'll get you close to Melissa.

Guest lists cover one side of Celeste Shaw's desk, with your new staff badge laid beside her keyboard. She closes your personnel folder just as Melissa appears in the doorway, carrying a tablet.

"Mel. Come and meet my new assistant."

Melissa steps inside. Celeste looks from you to her with a pleased smile.

"Good references and very easy on the eyes. I told you I would find someone."

"Please tell me you checked more than the photograph."

"Two references and a very thorough interview. I can appreciate more than one thing."

Melissa glances at you, then back at her friend.

"They are standing right here, Celeste."

"I know. Much better than the photograph."

Melissa laughs, lowering the tablet to her side.

"You are enjoying this far too much."

"You looked too."

"You called me over."

Celeste grins and slides the staff badge toward you.

"Guest lists, correspondence, keeping me organized. Occasionally helping Melissa when I can spare you."

"Occasionally?"

"Ask nicely. I have only just hired them."

Melissa shakes her head, still smiling, and comes closer. She offers her hand.

"Melissa Bayfond. It is nice to meet you properly."

Tuesday: 4:20 PM / Bayfond Shipyards — Behind the reception marquee / 10°C

📱 Handler: Entertainment placement confirmed. You are Captain Gulliver, the shipyard mascot. Staff pass covers the reception and backstage area. Melissa is attending. Yes, the costume is compulsory.

The white seabird costume has a navy cap, a yellow beak, and padded feet too wide for the gaps between the backstage chairs. Through the mesh below the beak, the reception marquee is visible: champagne, photographers, and an unfinished cruise ship beyond the windows.

A laminated instruction hangs from the dressing rail: REMAIN IN CHARACTER AROUND GUESTS.

Melissa's voice comes from the other side of the canvas entrance.

"Please excuse me."

She steps through in a dark blazer, carrying a paper cup of coffee. She glances back toward the reception before letting the flap fall closed.

She turns and finds herself facing an enormous yellow beak.

"Oh. Hello."

Her eyes travel up to the navy cap. She presses her lips together, then laughs.

"Sorry. Nobody warned me there was a bird back here."

She sets her cup on a clear corner of the dressing table. The conversations outside are muffled by the canvas.

"I have been making polite conversation with investors all afternoon. I think that is enough networking for one day."

She pulls a folding chair closer to the table, takes off her blazer, and drapes it over the back before sitting down.

"If anyone asks, I am checking on the entertainment."

She picks up her coffee again, looking toward the mesh beneath the beak with a small smile.

"Can you speak in there? I would introduce myself, but I suspect you have heard my name enough today."

Tuesday: 5:35 PM / Old Northport — Outside Bell Street Books / 8°C

📱 Handler: Melissa's made an unscheduled stop at Bell Street Books. We have no cover or credentials ready. You'll have to make your own introduction. You're on your own for this one.

The car that dropped you off turns at the end of the street and disappears into traffic.

Light spills from the bookshop onto the wet pavement. A few paces away, Melissa Bayfond stands beneath the awning in a charcoal coat, reading the back of a paperback. Celeste browses the display beside her. Farther along the curb, a suited driver waits by a black car, watching the shop entrance and the street.

Celeste pulls the first volume of another series from the display and holds it up.

"This one. We are starting this one."

Melissa lowers her book to look. "What is it?"

"Dark romance. Three books. Mafia family, a very dangerous man, and he is completely obsessed with her."

"That sounds exactly like the last series you made me read."

"You liked that one."

"I did. I would like a different story this time."

Melissa takes the paperback from Celeste, stacks it with the one she was holding, and sets both back on the display.

"Fine." Celeste folds her arms, still smiling. "What are we reading instead?"

Melissa looks along the other books on the table.

"We need a third opinion. You think a kidnapping counts as a meet-cute."

Tuesday: 9:20 PM / Bayfond Tower — Melissa's penthouse entrance / 7°C

📱 Handler: You're posing as a private escort tonight. We booked you through an agency contact, in Melissa's name. She knows nothing about it. If she sends you away, we'll need another approach.

Paul Webb stops beside you in the penthouse entrance hall, his tablet open to the agency confirmation.

"The agency confirmed the booking. Your details check out," he says. "Now I want to hear it from her."

Melissa appears in the living-room doorway wearing an oversized cream shirt and shorts, her hair loose. She stops when she sees Webb standing beside you.

"Paul?"

"I have someone here for a private escort appointment. Did you arrange this?"

Her eyebrows lift. She looks at you, then at the agency confirmation on his tablet.

I did not book an escort...

She opens her mouth, pauses, and takes another look at you. One hand smooths her hair behind her ear.

Although... you know what? Yeah, I could use this.

"Yes. They are here for me."

For a moment, Webb says nothing. He looks at Melissa, then back at the booking.

"I was about to send them away."

"Then I am glad you checked with me." A small smile. "Thank you, Paul. I would like some privacy."

She moves aside, leaving the entrance to the living room clear, and turns her attention to you.

"Hello. Melissa. It seems you have already met Paul."

Webb puts away the tablet. "Call if you need anything."

"I will. Good night, Paul."

He steps into the private elevator. The doors close behind him, leaving you alone with Melissa.

.