Chapter 3 - The Photograph of My Son"Who sent you this photograph?"
"Grant, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Someone is watching Corinne and Owen."
"Then you should call the police instead of accusing me."
I was standing outside Tessa's apartment when she opened the door.
For the first time since our affair began, I wasn't pleased to see her.
She wore a cream-colored silk blouse and dark pants, her hair arranged carefully over one shoulder.
The diamond bracelet I had purchased in Atlanta glittered on her wrist.
I suddenly hated the sight of it.
"Tessa, let me inside."
She glanced down the hallway.
"You're making a scene."
"Then stop treating this like a misunderstanding."
She stepped aside.
The apartment smelled of expensive perfume and fresh coffee.
Until that evening, it had been one of my favorite places.
Now it felt like an interrogation room.
I showed her the photograph.
Her expression flickered.
Only for an instant.
But I noticed.
"You've seen this before," I said.
"No."
"Don't lie."
She folded her arms.
"You're the one who's been lying for almost a year."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"You lied to your wife. You lied to your investors. You lied to yourself about what this relationship meant."
My voice hardened.
"That doesn't answer my question."
She looked away.
And in that moment I understood something humiliating.
I had spent nearly a year convincing myself that Tessa admired me.
That she saw the powerful businessman beneath the burden of marriage and fatherhood.
That she appreciated the things Corinne supposedly took for granted.
But Tessa had never loved the man I was.
She loved the man I pretended to be.
And perhaps she had been pretending too.
"How do you know Marcus?" I asked.
She walked toward the kitchen.
"Through work."
"What work?"
"Consulting."
"Your company received hundreds of thousands of dollars."
She stopped.
"Those were legitimate fees."
"For what services?"
"Marketing analysis. Investor outreach."
"Show me the reports."
She turned slowly.
"I don't owe you an audit."
"Actually, you might."
Her face changed.
"You need to be very careful about threatening me."
I looked around the room.
The designer furniture.
The artwork.
The expensive jewelry.
The apartment overlooking downtown Nashville.
I had paid for some of it.
But I had never paid enough to explain all of it.
"Did you know about Corinne's trust?" I asked.
Tessa's expression became unreadable.
"I knew your wife came from money."
"Did Marcus tell you?"
"Grant—"
"Did he?"
She placed her coffee cup on the counter.
"Marcus said the trust was interfering with the redevelopment financing."
I felt cold.
"What else?"
"He said your wife was becoming suspicious."
I took a step toward her.
"When?"
"Months ago."
"How many months?"
"Four, maybe five."
Four months.
Corinne had been pregnant.
She had been preparing the nursery while someone discussed her inheritance behind her back.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Tessa laughed bitterly.
"Because Marcus told me you already knew."
"About what?"
She hesitated.
Then she opened a drawer.
Inside was a small black USB drive.
She held it between two fingers.
"There's a recording on this."
"Of what?"
"Marcus discussing the trust transfers with someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know his real name."
"Then why do you have it?"
"Because I was beginning to think Marcus intended to make me responsible for the consulting payments."
I looked at the drive.
"Give it to me."
She pulled back.
"Not until you promise something."
"What?"
"If the investigation gets serious, you'll make sure I'm protected."
I couldn't believe her.
"My wife and newborn son are being followed, and you're negotiating?"
Her eyes flashed.
"Don't act morally superior. You weren't concerned about your wife when you were lying beside me in Atlanta."
That silenced me.
Because she was right.
Whatever Tessa had done, I had created the opportunity for much of it.
She stepped closer.
"Marcus has people watching Corinne. I told him it was unnecessary."
My heart lurched.
"You knew?"
"I knew he wanted to know where she was."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"Why would I? You spent nine days pretending she didn't exist."
I looked at the USB drive.
Then I looked at the woman I had sacrificed my marriage for.
For the first time, I saw no future with her.
Only consequences.
"Keep the bracelet," I said quietly.
She frowned.
"What?"
"The apartment. The gifts. Whatever I gave you."
"Grant—"
"But don't contact me again unless it's through an attorney."
I turned toward the door.
She grabbed my arm.
"You're making a mistake."
I pulled away.
"I've made plenty."
Outside, I called my attorney, Evelyn Shaw.
She had represented my company for eight years.
When she answered, I told her what I had discovered.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she said something I hadn't expected.
"Grant, before we discuss your legal position, I need to ask you one question."
"What?"
"Did you personally sign Corinne's name to any trust documents?"
I stood beside my car.
Cars moved past me under the streetlights.
I could hear my own breathing.
"Evelyn—"
"Did you?"
I closed my eyes.
"Yes."
There was a long silence.
Then she spoke with chilling precision.
"Do not contact Marcus again. Do not destroy or alter anything. Do not attempt to access your wife's accounts. We need to arrange independent criminal counsel."
"Why?"
"Because this is no longer a divorce problem."
Before I could respond, another unknown message appeared.
This one contained a video.
I pressed play.
The image showed Corinne entering a parking garage with Owen's car seat.
A man in a dark jacket followed her.
And when he turned his head toward the camera, I recognized him.
May you like
It was Victor Hale.
My company's head of private security.
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