“Adrian, please.”
I pulled away.
“Vanessa has been acting strangely for weeks.”
“Don’t blame Vanessa.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
Claire’s voice cracked.
Then both her hands went to her stomach.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
I was furious.
Too furious to listen.
“I’m done hearing lies.”
“It’s not a lie.”
“Get out.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Leave the house.”
“Adrian—”
“Now.”
Something changed in her face.
A door seemed to close behind her eyes.
She packed one duffel bag.
Before she reached the front gate—
I froze our joint accounts.
Security deactivated her entry code.
By midnight—
Claire Bennett, my wife of seven years, had been locked out of her own home.
Three months later—
the divorce was final.
VANESSA HELPED ME “RECOVER”
That was how I described it.
Six months later—
Vanessa and I became engaged.
And for almost a year, I repeated the same story until it felt like fact.
Claire stole money.
Claire had another man.
Claire stole my mother’s necklace.
Claire ran because guilty people run.
It was a simple story.
And simple stories are comfortable.
Then I saw her beside a Bellmere highway with two babies.
Suddenly—
nothing was simple.
I DROPPED VANESSA OFF TWENTY MINUTES LATER
She was shopping at a designer boutique.
Before closing the passenger door, she leaned back inside.
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m tired.”
“Because of Claire?”
I didn’t answer.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“She made her choices.”
Then:
“Don’t let guilt make you stupid.”
Guilt.
Interesting choice of word.
“Dinner tonight?”
“I have work.”
She sighed.
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
She kissed my cheek.
I waited until she disappeared inside.
Then drove directly to my office.
At 3:11 p.m.—
I called Marcus Hale.
MARCUS HAD SPENT FIFTEEN YEARS INVESTIGATING CORPORATE FRAUD
He had eventually opened his own private investigative firm.
If somebody moved money illegally—
Marcus usually found the trail.
He answered quickly.
“Vale.”
“I need you to reopen something.”
Silence.
Then:
“The divorce?”
