Chapter 2 - Someone Had Been Watching UsI barely slept that night.
Alexander had insisted that Lily and I not return to our apartment until we understood why the man in the gray parka had been there.
Normally, I would have refused help from a stranger—billionaire or otherwise—but everything about that night had stopped feeling normal.
Alexander arranged rooms for us at one of his company’s downtown hotels.
Not the presidential suite.
Not some ridiculous palace.
Two connecting rooms on a quiet floor with security downstairs.
“I don’t want charity,” I told him in the lobby.
“It isn’t charity.”
“What is it?”
“Precaution.”
Lily tugged Alexander’s sleeve.
“Do billionaires get pajamas?”
I nearly died.
Alexander laughed.
“Sometimes.”
“Christmas pajamas?”
“I’m afraid my wardrobe is disappointingly serious.”
She looked at his black suit.
“I can tell.”
Alexander laughed harder than I expected.
For a moment, the tension disappeared.
Then my phone rang.
Ryan.
I stepped away from Lily before answering.
“What?”
“Merry Christmas to you too.”
“What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
My entire body stiffened.
“Why?”
“I went by your apartment.”
“At midnight?”
“I wanted to see my daughter.”
“You were told all visitation arrangements go through our attorneys.”
“Claire, stop acting insane.”
There it was.
That word.
Insane.
Ryan had started using it during the divorce.
At first casually.
“You’re being insane.”
Then strategically.
“You sound unstable.”
Eventually it appeared in legal documents.
Emotionally volatile.
Erratic.
Unfit.
“Do not come to my home again,” I said.
“Our home.”
“You moved out eight months ago.”
“I’m still Lily’s father.”
“And I’m still her mother.”
He lowered his voice.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“For who?”
“For yourself.”
The line went dead.
When I turned around, Alexander was watching me.
“You don’t like him,” I said.
“I haven’t met him.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I make a habit of avoiding judgments without evidence.”
It was a strangely careful answer.
“What do you think?”
“I think he wanted to know where you were.”
I shivered.
Christmas morning arrived quietly.
Lily woke before sunrise.
The hotel had placed a small Christmas tree in our room, along with three wrapped presents.
I knew immediately who had arranged it.
One was a stuffed polar bear.
One was a children’s art set.
The third was a red scarf.
A note was attached.
For Lily. Every good detective needs something red. —Alex
I found Alexander downstairs around nine.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
There were two folders on the table.
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“My security team pulled public information on the photographer.”
“The man from the diner?”
“His name is Mason Rourke.”
I opened the folder.
A grainy photograph showed the same narrow face.
“He’s a licensed private investigator.”
I stared at Alexander.
“Ryan hired him.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Who else would?”
Alexander turned another page.
“Mason has worked repeatedly for a firm called Caldwell Family Advocacy.”
My blood chilled.
Vanessa used to work for Caldwell.
Alexander saw my reaction.
“You recognize the name.”
“Yes.”
I told him.
Vanessa Price had been Ryan’s girlfriend for at least four months, although I suspected the relationship began long before our separation.
Before that, she had worked as an executive assistant to Martin Caldwell, a high-profile divorce attorney famous for representing wealthy clients in vicious custody battles.
Alexander took out his phone.
“I know Caldwell.”
Of course he did.
“Personally?”
“Professionally.”
“Is he good?”
“At winning?”
“Yes.
“At being ethical?”
Alexander paused.
“I’ll reserve judgment.”
My attorney, Rachel Kim, arrived an hour later.
She was forty, sharp, practical, and visibly suspicious when she learned who had become involved.
“You understand,” she told Alexander, “that anything you do could complicate Claire’s case.”
“I understand.”
“And I’m her lawyer.”
“I understand that too.”
“And you don’t get to become Batman because you own buildings.”
Lily, coloring nearby, looked up.
“Who’s Batman?”
Rachel rubbed her forehead.
Alexander smiled.
“I like her.”
“I don’t care.”
That was how Rachel joined the investigation.
By noon, we had established three things.
First, Mason Rourke had been photographing me for at least six weeks.
Second, several photographs submitted by Ryan’s attorneys had been taken by Mason.
Third, one photograph supposedly showing Lily alone outside my workplace had been cropped.
The uncropped image showed my coworker Denise standing less than six feet away.
Rachel stared at the screen.
“That matters.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
The submitted version made it appear Lily was unattended.
The original proved she wasn’t.
“But how do we prove Ryan knew it was cropped?”
Rachel shook her head.
“We don’t yet.”
My phone buzzed.
An email.
The subject line made my chest tighten.
NOTICE OF EMERGENCY HEARING
December 27.
Two days away.
Ryan was asking the court to remove Lily from my custody immediately.
I handed Rachel the phone.
She read silently.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“We prepare.”
“I have two days.”
“You have me.”
Alexander spoke quietly.
“And whatever lawful resources I can provide.”
Rachel looked at him.
“I’ll hold you to the word lawful.”
That afternoon, we finally returned to my apartment with security accompanying us.
Nothing looked disturbed.
But Alexander’s head of security, Marcus Reed, noticed something near the smoke detector.
He climbed onto a chair.
“What?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
He removed the plastic cover.
Inside was a tiny black device.
My knees almost gave out.
“A camera?” I whispered.
Marcus examined it.
“No. Audio transmitter.”
Someone had been listening to us.
Rachel immediately called police.
I stood in the kitchen while officers photographed everything.
Lily colored at the table, completely unaware.
Then Marcus found another device.
Behind a bookshelf.
A third underneath my desk.
The detective taking the report looked at me.
“Any idea who had access?”
“My ex-husband used to live here.”
“Anyone recently?”
“Maintenance. Building staff. My babysitter.”
He wrote everything down.
Alexander stood near the window, jaw tight.
“What?”
He pointed across the street.
A black SUV had been parked beside the curb.
The moment Marcus stepped toward the window, it pulled away.
That evening, another message arrived from Ryan.
This time it contained only six words.
You should have taken my offer.
Rachel read it twice.
“What offer?”
During mediation, Ryan had offered me two hundred thousand dollars if I gave him primary custody and moved to Wisconsin.
I refused.
Alexander’s expression changed.
“He tried to buy custody?”
“He called it a settlement.”
“And after you refused, someone started watching you.”
I stared at him.
“You think Ryan did all this?”
“I think coincidences deserve examination.”
Marcus entered the room carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was something he had found wedged behind my desk.
A hotel key card.
The logo was visible.
Whitmore Grand Chicago.
Alexander frowned.
“That’s one of ours.”
Marcus checked the printed code.
“Executive floor.”
Alexander went completely still.
“Who has access to that level?” Rachel asked.
Alexander looked at her.
“Senior Whitmore executives.”
May you like
The room went silent.
Someone connected to Alexander’s own company had been inside my apartment.
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