Chapter 4: The Private Eye
My guilt quickly transmuted into a burning need for answers. Who the hell had I almost married?
I hired a private investigator, a former detective named Vance. I told him to dig into Vanessa's past, leaving no stone unturned. Two weeks later, Vance slid a thick manila folder across my desk.
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"You dodged a massive bullet, Julian," Vance said grimly.
The file was a roadmap of deception. Vanessa wasn't a successful gallery curator as she had claimed. She was drowning in debt. Worse, I wasn't her first target. She had a history of attaching herself to wealthy, grieving widowers. She would isolate them, siphon their funds, and vanish. But I was the first one with a young child—a child who was an obstacle to her sole inheritance.
