Chapter 3
1268words
Last night's discovery was like a thorn stuck in her heart, making sleep impossible.
She pulled up the smart home logs and compiled a list of all the jazz music that "guest" had requested.
These pieces shared a consistent style, all being relatively obscure niche works, yet they had similar arrangement styles and performance characteristics.
Ella opened several music recognition platforms and uploaded the song fragments one by one for analysis. Most songs could not be identified, which further confirmed her speculation—these were likely not commercially released works, but rather creations of independent musicians.
She first tried searching the local jazz scene.
The San Francisco Bay Area did have several niche jazz bands, but their musical styles were vastly different from what was recorded in the log. She then looked up music critics and radio DJs, spending two hours browsing their playlists and social media, but found nothing.
A sense of frustration began to spread. Ella got up and made herself an espresso; the bitter liquid helped her refocus. She decided to change her approach and concentrate on the tracks that were played most frequently.
After three hours of repeated comparisons, one record was finally identified. It was an instrumental piece called "Midnight Echo," which had been played nine times. The identification results showed it came from a creator called "Sound Wave Painter," who only published on a few niche music platforms.
Ella immediately searched for this name on various podcast platforms, but found no results. Her heart sank—was this another dead end?
Just as she was about to give up, she noticed a detail: in the comments section of "Midnight Echo," only one user had left a comment: "Each listening experience reveals a different night atmosphere. Perfectly matches my sound design concept."
The username was "Chloe_SoundDesign."
Ella's heartbeat began to accelerate. She tried searching for this username across different platforms and finally found an account with the same name on a professional soundscape design community. The profile read: "Chloe Lee, interior soundscape designer, painting life's canvas through sound."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clicked on the latest podcast episode. When that lazy, slightly husky female voice came through her headphones, Ella felt as if all the blood in her body had instantly frozen.
This was the voice. The way each word's final sound lifted slightly, with that distinctive rhythmic quality, matched perfectly with the voice print recorded in the smart log.
She yanked off her headphones as if scalded by the sound. A sharp pain shot from her temple to the back of her head, forcing her to close her eyes for a few seconds to recover.
Having her suspicions confirmed brought no relief; instead, it felt like a dull knife repeatedly cutting into her heart.
After putting her headphones back on, Ella quickly browsed through the podcast host's profile.
Chloe described herself as a freelance soundscape designer who created personalized audio environments for high-end clients. Her social media links were attached below her profile.
Opening her Instagram page, the latest post was from last night: Chloe taking a selfie with a glass of red wine, captioned: "Another night of flowing inspiration, thanks to someone's private wine collection. #SoundscapeInspiration #ArtOfLiving"
Ella zoomed in on the background of the photo and could vaguely make out the silhouette of a man reflected in the wine glass. Though blurry, she knew that shirt style all too well—it was the birthday gift she had personally picked out for David.
As she continued to scroll through while suppressing her nausea, a post published just ten minutes ago caught her attention:
"Tomorrow night at 8 PM, there will be an impromptu performance at the Blue Note Jazz Bar. I've prepared special pieces, hoping to see a familiar figure appear~ #JazzNight #MeetingsHappen"
The attached image was a photo of the bar's stage, with a reservation sign faintly visible in the corner: "Reserved: D.W."
Ella's heart suddenly tightened. D.W.—the initials of David Walliams.
She immediately opened her map app to search for the location of this bar. The results showed it was only three blocks away from David's studio, and just a ten-minute drive from their home.
This discovery suddenly made the investigation more urgent.
Tomorrow night.
She had less than twenty-four hours to decide how to respond.
Ella preserved all the key evidence: voice pattern comparison results, Chloe's suggestive posts on social media, bar reservation information, and that blurry figure in the reflection. With each file she saved, her heart grew colder.
She opened professional audio analysis software and compared the voice pattern samples extracted from her home logs with the voice from the podcast. On the spectrogram, the peaks and waveform heights of the two sound waves matched, with a compatibility rate exceeding 95%.
The scientific data was cold and precise: the "guest" who issued commands in her home late at night was indeed Chloe, the self-proclaimed soundscape designer.
The study was so quiet that the humming of the computer fan was audible. Ella stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the gradually awakening city.
Traffic on the streets began to increase as people welcomed a new day, unaware that in this study, a woman's world was quietly collapsing—and suddenly time became pressing.
Ella took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Anger and pain wouldn't solve anything; what she needed now was a clear mind and a meticulous plan.
The jazz bar tomorrow night, to go or not to go?
If she went, in what capacity should she appear? If she didn't go, would she miss crucial evidence?
She returned to her computer and created an encrypted folder named "Soundscape Project." She organized all the evidence by category: audio files, screenshots, timeline comparisons.
During her organization, she discovered that Chloe was frequently active on a professional soundscape design forum, sharing case studies and experiences. This forum required real-name verification to access complete content.
Ella contacted Sophia without hesitation: "Can you get me access to a soundscape designer forum? Need to investigate deeper. Also, are you free tomorrow night? Might need your help."
Sophia quickly replied: "Working on the access now. Tomorrow night is fine. What have you found?"
Ella stared at the screen, her fingers lingering on the keyboard for a long time before finally replying: "I found the owner of the voice. And, she just sent an invitation."
By the time the investigation temporarily concluded, daylight had already broken. Ella hadn't slept all night, yet she felt no fatigue.
Tomorrow night's appointment was like a spotlight, illuminating her path forward while also multiplying the pressure.
She stood in the center of the study, looking around at the space she and David had created together. Each smart device had once been a manifestation of her technological ideals, but now they had become witnesses to betrayal.
That woman's voice, that Chloe who called herself a soundscape designer, had silently infiltrated her life, her marriage, her most private spaces through these devices.
Ella walked to the smart hub and said softly: "Xiao Zhi, play some music that helps with calm thinking."
"Certainly, now playing 'Deep Thinking' playlist for you."
As the music began to play, a cold smile appeared at the corners of Ella's lips.
The hunt had begun, and now she not only clearly knew who the prey was, but also when and where they would appear next.
