"So, what do you know about this stolen prototype business?"
"Uh…" I quickly walked into my studio and shut the door. "I’m sorry, what now?"
"The prototype. The original…" she drifted off, for long enough that I was just about to check to see if the phone had disconnected. "Wait, do you really not know about this at all?"
"I guess not," I replied. "Care to enlighten me?"
"Okay." She sounded like she was shuffling through some papers. "So I’ve been doing a little digging, and I came across a little bit of a kerfuffle in your husband’s past. It happened back in college. The court records were sealed, but…well, you know, I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I couldn’t get to them anyway."
"Hold on, hold on. I hired you to investigate Florence, not Daniel."
"Yeah, well, I leave no stone unturned. And it’s a good thing, too. Listen to this. The details are all a little bit muddled, but the accusation is that Daniel pretty liberally…’borrowed’ a pocket organizer prototype from some college buddies, and ended up using a lot of the specs when it came time for him to develop the very first Plum device. Remember that monstrosity?"
I forced myself to speak. "Yes," I said. "But…"
"But," Kelly repeated. "So here’s the deal, the case settled in court, and one of the conditions was that nobody involved could talk about it. So that kind of explains why no one ever brings it up." She hesitated. "But, that doesn’t mean they’re not thinking about it."
"Who?" I switched my phone to the other ear. "Who’s thinking about it?"
"The guys," she said, patiently. "From college. The ones he…maybe, sort of, kind of, might have stolen from."
All of a sudden, I remembered our honeymoon in St. Lucia. I remembered the journalist, and how he’d alluded to this very thing.
"Shit," I said aloud, as it all clicked into place.
"Now, granted," Kelly went on. "I don’t know if there’s any connection here. I was actually sort of hoping that you could shed some light on it, but…"
"I’m sorry," I said. "I mean, he doesn’t talk about it."
"Understandable," said Kelly.
I hesitated. I wanted to tell her about the journalist, but I was also slightly terrified about starting a shitstorm over something that Daniel clearly wanted to forget about. I was already starting to regret getting Kelly involved at all. I didn’t know her. I couldn’t trust her, really. What if she decided to go public with what she found, capitalizing on a short-term payday from the media? It might end her career if anyone found out, but if she played her cards right…
"You want to tell me something," said Kelly, after my long silence. "I can tell. Just spill it. Nobody’s going to find out. I take my detective-client privilege very seriously."
"Is ‘detective-client privilege’ even a real thing? I don’t even recall signing a contract."
"Do you really want a record of this on paper?"
"Okay, fine. But I still think you made up the ‘privilege’ part."
"Yeah, maybe. But I want to keep working in this town. I won’t betray you, Scout’s honor."
I sighed. "Okay, so there’s this thing. When we were on our honeymoon…" I hesitated again.
"Go on," said Kelly. I could hear her grinning.
"Ha ha," I deadpanned. "This journalist came up to us while we were eating. Well - before that, he’d been taking pictures of us on the beach. He claimed it was just a coincidence that he was there."
"Yeah, sure," Kelly cut in. "But he knew something about the lawsuit, you think?"
"Oh, he definitely did. He sort of led Daniel into the topic, and then started asking about it. Daniel got really upset and we left, but he wouldn’t tell me anything - he just said it was a long time ago, and it was settled with a non-disclosure agreement. That’s literally all I know about it."
"You got a name?" I could hear papers rustling on her desk.
"Whose, the journalist’s? I think…Ryan Brewer. That sounds right. He introduced himself to us before things went south. Of course I don’t know if it’s real."
"I’m sure it’s real," said Kelly. "Or at the very least, it’s what he uses on his byline. He wouldn’t resist the opportunity to plant his name in someone’s head."
"I wouldn’t even venture a guess as to how he found out about it," I said. "I looked it up online afterwards, because of course I was curious. But there was nothing."
"Sure," said Kelly. "If you don’t know where to look."
"Granted." I plucked a pencil from my desk and examined it like I’d never seen it before. "Obviously Mr. Brewer does."
"Could be," she said. "Could be. Well, thanks for the information. I’ll call you once I have something."
"Thank you," I said.
I’d been so absorbed in all of this mess that I’d completely forgotten about Ryan Brewer, freelance journalist. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might be involved in this, or even that it might have something to do with the lawsuit he’d alluded to. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder.
Hastily, I typed his name into a search and began scrolling through the results. He did indeed have many credits on his byline; a lot of the ridiculous tabloid stuff I expected, as well as some more mainstream articles. Interesting.
I found myself wondering about his seemingly insider knowledge. Kelly had her ways. But if the information were easily accessible to anyone who was curious, why wasn’t every paper headlining with this story? DISGRACED BILLIONAIRE DANIEL THORNE: A HISTORY OF THEFT?
Obviously, Ryan Brewer knew something I didn’t. And I wanted to find out what it was.
I knew Kelly wouldn’t be too happy with me launching my own investigation, but hell - I was paying her, not the other way around. If she didn’t like it, too bad. Daniel was my husband. I had a right to find out a thing or two on my own.
It didn’t take long to find the anonymous email address that Ryan used as his "tip line." I shot off a quick note from a similarly throwaway account.
Mr. Brewer -
I have some exclusive information on the Daniel Thorne case that I think you might be interested in. I’d like to meet. I’m in NYC. Will you be in town any time soon?
I got an answer within minutes.
Very interested to hear what you have to say. I’m flying in next week for a conference. Can meet Mon-Sat any time after 6pm, Manhattan area is best. Name the time and place. Looking forward to meeting you.
- Ryan
I couldn’t stop smiling to myself as I composed a reply, naming a cafe that I vaguely knew on Tuesday evening. I knew Daniel would be out late, at one of the meetings he was still conducting with his creative team, even with the company frozen. Not that he’d be likely to ask questions, but I preferred to hedge my bets.
The whole thing had me unreasonably excited. I barely slept for the next few days, planning out my strategy for the meeting. I needed to find out what he knew and why. If he was like any other human being on the planet, he’d be more than willing to tell me what I needed to know in exchange for some cash. There was, of course, the question of whether he’d try to lie or obfuscate, but I figured he probably wouldn’t have much motive to do so. I didn’t get the sense he had a lot of loyalties, when there was a paycheck involved.
Then again, that could describe a lot of people.
I shook my head, trying not to think about the possibility that the allegations were true. That the case against Daniel had been justified. I didn’t want to, as if avoiding the topic would somehow make it less likely to be true. But I couldn’t confront that now. I had too much to think about as it was; my mind was spinning, jumping in a thousand different directions at once. I couldn’t think about what it meant - for me - for us.
I just had to keep taking it one day at a time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When I went to meet Ryan Brewer, I had a knot the size of a fist in my stomach. I still didn’t know what I was going to say to him. There was a small chance he’d just turn tail and
run as soon as he recognized me, but there was another chance he’d be deathly curious and stay to hear me out. And from that point on, I was going to let my money do the talking.
We were meeting in a coffee shop in the busiest part of midtown, which was either a brilliant move on my part, or completely insane. Despite my recent media coverage, I was still more or less able to make my way around without getting that "do I know her?" second glance - most of the time. But the bigger a crowd I allowed myself to be in, the greater my chances of being recognized.
So far, so good, and I was able to jostle my way through the door of the shop without too much hassle. As the bell dinged above my head, a few people looked up; Ryan was one of them. He was seated in a quiet far corner of the shop, well isolated from the rest of the customers.
I recognized him immediately. He was wearing a Yankees hat and was much less tan than the last time I’d seen him, but I remembered his face very clearly. As I walked towards him, he went even paler, his eyes widening until I thought for sure they would jump out of his head.
"Madeline," he said, standing up and extending his hand for me to shake. I ignored it, and sat down primly.
"Hello, Ryan," I said. "Don’t get too excited. I’m here to get information from you - not the other way around."
"I wouldn’t presume…" Ryan frowned a little, sitting back down in his chair. "You know, whatever you might think of me, I do take my professional courtesy very seriously. I protect my sources. If you want to know something about…" I was pulling out my wallet, and his eyes widened again.
"Go on," I said, fanning a few bills. "What were you saying about professional courtesy?"
He took a deep breath and reached for his water glass, but his eyes never left the money in my hand. "On the other hand, it might be possible to make arrangements."
"Good," I said. "I want to know how you found out about the lawsuit."
He just looked at me for a moment, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You mean…the prototype lawsuit? From when Thorne was in college?"
"That’d be it." I smiled, humorlessly. "Nobody else seems to know about it, so I’m curious. How’d you stumble on that little gem? And more importantly, why haven’t you done a story about it yet? This would be the time."
Ryan drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes darting from me to the door, and to the other patrons in the shop. And then, of course, to the money.
"I can’t," he said, finally, with a massive sigh. "I really…look, I’m not going to lie, I could use the money, and if it were anything else, but this…I can’t. They made it very clear to me that if I breathed another word about the lawsuit…"
"They?" I repeated. "You mean, the plaintiffs?"
He looked at me, slightly pained. "I can’t say."
"Come on. You really think they’re ever going to find out about this?"
Ryan scoffed. "Of course they will. You expect me to believe your husband wouldn’t take any excuse, any opportunity to go after them?"
I set my wallet down between my elbows on the table and interlaced my fingers. "So they’ve done something worth ‘going after,’ then?"
He was gnawing on his bottom lip.
"Look," I said. "If you don’t give me something, something real - I mean, actual words coming out of your mouth - you’re not getting paid. I’m not interested in hand gestures and meaningful looks."
He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "All right," he said, leaning further across the table. "Here’s the thing. Everything you’ve said is true, but I’m guessing you already knew that. I heard about the lawsuit at first from an old high school friend. I guess he used to room with one of the guys, and he actually saw the whole thing unfold. He’s one of the few people who really knows much about it, on account of all the secrecy and NDAs. I’ve been sitting on the story for months, waiting for the right opportunity. Right about the time Thorne was at the height of his popularity, a real media darling - I figured that would be perfect. So I tailed you guys to St. Lucia, I figured he’d be in a better mood-" he raised his hands in supplication. "Obviously that didn’t work out, so I shelved the idea for a while longer. I wanted to break the story, sure, but I wanted to do it proper justice. I couldn’t just throw it out there, unsubstantiated, from an ‘unknown source.’ My buddy’s a respected businessman, you know, he doesn’t want his name tied to this shit."
"Who would?" I agreed, flatly. Ryan, to his credit, looked just the slightest bit ashamed.
"And then," he went on, "then, of course, all this happened." He waved his hands, vaguely. "And that would be an even better time to break a story like this, but I still had nothing to back it up. Until my buddy got in touch with me again - and this time, he had something really good." Ryan paused, dramatically. "Turns out, his old college friend - one of the plaintiffs from the Thorne lawsuit - had been in touch with him again recently, asking if he had any connections at Byte Magazine. Apparently, he desperately wanted to get in touch with the writer of the ‘Daniel in the Lion’s Den’ article. I’m sure you remember it."
I nodded. How could I forget?
"In particular, he wanted to find out the identity of the anonymous source named in the article. Thorne’s ex-girlfriend. Now, she spoke on conditions of anonymity, but I have connections. I was able to put them in touch with her, and they paid me pretty well for it."
"Flo," I said, grimly.
"So you’ve met." Ryan stared at the untouched chocolate chip muffin in front of him, then reached out and picked at it halfheartedly. "Charming woman."
My head was swimming. I never would have guessed there could be a connection between Flo and the lawsuit. My heart immediately leapt into my throat when I considered the possibility that she’d told them about our sham marriage. I could only hope that the fact that we’d already been vetted by the INS, and were still together, would hold more weight than another accusation of fakery.
But if they hadn’t contacted Flo to try and dig up more dirt on Daniel, what business could they possibly have with her?
"All right," I said, pulling out some bills and laying them down next to his coffee cup. "Thanks for your help. It’s been a pleasure."
***
Kelly called me a few days later, sounding triumphant. Daniel and Lindsay both looked up as I answered the phone, but I just gave them a polite smile and held up my finger, retreating into my studio.
"What’s going on?" I asked, as I shut the door.
"I’ve got them," Kelly announced. "I have pictures. Full face. I’m sending you one right now. Take a look, see what you think."
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it away from my ear to look at the picture. This time, there was no mistaking the face.
"That’s her," I said, lifting the phone to my face again. "That’s definitely her."
"Beautiful." Kelly sounded very proud of herself. "Did you want me to keep an eye on her? Try to get a recording? Anything?"
"Sure, yes," I said. "All three. Thank you, Kelly."
"My pleasure." She sounded like she meant it.
As tempting as it was to throw the picture in Daniel’s face and say I told you so, I just sat in my studio for a while longer and pondered my next move. The investigation was going well without him. And, if I was being perfectly honest with myself, I was enjoying it. Having something just to myself. Something sort of - thrilling.
It was stupid to think of it that way - like this wasn’t real life, like I was watching it on TV or something. But I’d felt so helpless since this thing started, it was intoxicating to actually be able to do something about it for once. And clearly, Daniel wasn’t interested in pursuing the same avenues that I was. He wouldn’t investigate who framed him, he wouldn’t request a new judge - it was almost like he was trying to punish himself.
Well, I wasn’t going to just stand idly by.
I walked back out into the living room to find Daniel alone.
"Lindsey manage to set herself up another meeting?" I sat down on the sofa b
eside him. "She’s been a busy little bee lately."
"I keep telling her she can go home, but she won’t." Daniel shrugged. "Says I need the moral support."
"Well, she’s very sweet. I’m glad she can at least get some work done while she’s here."
Daniel nodded, a little absently.
I picked at a loose thread on my shirt. I’d been meaning to replace it forever, but for some reason I’d just never quite gotten around to it. "Have you guys always been close?"
He seemed a little surprised by the question.
"Yes," he said. "Well - on and off. We’ve had our moments. I think most siblings do." He cleared his throat. "It was - difficult when she left for college, and I stayed back for a while longer finishing high school. Suddenly she just wasn’t there anymore. The silence at home was deafening." He smiled. "Things always tend to get quieter when Lindsey’s not around."
I had to agree.
"I’d be lying if I said I never got sick of it." He leaned back, reaching over and draping his arm across my shoulders. "But it’s pretty refreshing, most of the time. She never really lies or keeps secrets, unless you ask her to. She’s pretty much an open book. What you see is what you get. It takes a very particular sort of courage to go through life that way, and I honestly have no idea where she cultivated it, or how. I wish I could say I have it, but I don’t."
"I know what you mean," I said. "I guess it sort of comes from a place of…not really caring what people think. But not in a mean way, just in a way of like…why does it matter, you know? You just live your life. You do right by people, but you don’t need to spend all your time worrying about leaving the wrong impression."
Daniel nodded, slowly. "She has faith in herself," he said, softly. "That’s what it boils down to, really. She doesn’t need to spend any time worrying, because she trusts that no matter what happens, no matter what situation she finds herself in, she’ll handle it. I remember, as a kid…" he paused, and laughed a little. "I used to get so, sort of - nervous, and embarrassed, every time we watched a movie or a TV show that had a wedding scene in it. My dad didn’t notice, of course, but Lindsey did. At first she thought it was just that typical aversion to romance that little boys often have, but I didn’t react that way to kissing scenes or anything else. Finally, one day we were all invited to a wedding, and I had a complete breakdown. Lindsey actually asked me, for the first time, what the problem was.
I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found (Contemporary Romance) Page 13
