The folded sheet made a dry scraping sound beneath my fingers.
The investigator stood across from me without moving.
I unfolded the note.
There were only sixteen words on it.
“If Rowan ever learns the truth, make sure he never finds out what happened to the third baby.”
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What third baby?”
The investigator stared at the desk.
“Answer me.”
His throat moved.
“I wasn’t supposed to know everything.”
I stepped closer.
“You took money to destroy my marriage.
You hid proof that my wife was innocent.
You knew she was pregnant with my children.
Now there is a note about a third baby in your file.
You know enough.”
He sank into his chair.
For the first time since I had hired him a year earlier, he did not look like a professional investigator.
He looked like a man who had spent too long hoping a locked cabinet could keep consequences outside.
“Tessa contacted me before you did,” he said.
I felt cold spread through my chest.
“Before I hired you?”
He nodded.
“She knew your marriage was under pressure.
She gave me information that made Maren look suspicious.
Then, when you came to me, I already had the story prepared.”
“The photographs?”
“Staged.”
“The transfers?”
“Made to look connected to her.”
“The necklace?”
He closed his eyes.
“Planted.”
Every answer reopened the same moment in my foyer.
Maren crying.
Maren saying someone was setting her up.
Me refusing to listen.
I had believed myself rational because I possessed documents.
I had never asked who created them.
“Why?” I asked.
“Tessa wanted you available.
She wanted Maren gone before anyone could challenge the story she was building with you.”
My stomach twisted.
“And the babies?”
The investigator hesitated again.
I slammed my palm onto the folder.
“What happened after Maren left my house?”
He finally looked at me.
“She went into labor early.”
The room went silent.
“There were three babies.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
Three.
Not two.
