Those babies could belong to anyone.” Grant froze. Almost a year earlier, he had believed Laura had s.
t. o. l. e. n nearly $140,000 from him. Then photographs appeared showing her entering a hotel with another man.
Finally, his late mother’s diamond necklace vanished from the safe and was mysteriously discovered inside Laura’s closet.
The evidence had seemed undeniable. Laura had stood in their home crying.
“Grant, I didn’t do this. Serena is trying to d. e. s. t. r. o. y me. Please listen to me.
There’s something I need to tell you—” He never let her finish. “Get out.”
That was all he had said. He froze their accounts. Disabled her access to the house.
And watched security escort his wife away with one duffel bag. Months later, Serena—the woman who had helped him through the d.
i. v. o. r. c. e—became his fiancée. Grant had spent almost a year believing Laura had b.
e. t. r. a. y. e. d him. But now, watching her disappear down that highway carrying two babies who looked strangely like him, one thought refused to leave his mind: What if Laura had been telling the truth all along?
Grant said nothing to Serena. He drove her to a boutique, waited until she disappeared inside, then went straight to his office.
At 3:11 p. m. , he locked the door and called Marcus Reed, a private investigator who specialized in uncovering financial f.
r. a. u. d. “I need you to reopen my divorce.” Marcus went quiet. “All of it?”
“The bank transfers. The hotel photographs. My mother’s necklace. And find Laura.”
Grant swallowed. “Find out where she’s been living. Find out about those twins.
I want everything.” That evening, Marcus called back. His voice sounded different.
