Chapter 2 - The Seams in the FileBy sundown, Rowan’s Range Rover was parked outside Mercer Private Investigations in downtown Nashville.

Ray Mercer was the private investigator who had originally found the bank transfers, the hotel lobby surveillance photos, the pawnshop receipts, and every piece of evidence that had convinced Rowan of Maren’s guilt eleven months ago.

Ray looked older when he opened the door. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his eyes moving nervously around the room as Rowan walked inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Rowan?” Ray stammered, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here? The wedding isn't for three weeks—”

“I want the original Maren file,” Rowan said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register. “Not the summary report you sent my divorce lawyers. The raw files. The timestamps. The original surveillance footage.”

Ray backed away behind his desk, holding up his hands. “Rowan, that case is closed. The court signed off on the asset division. It’s done.”

Rowan stepped closer, leaning his heavy hands over the desk, his eyes flashing with icy rage. “Open the safe, Ray. Or I call the District Attorney’s office and report evidence tampering before I leave this office.”

Ray’s face went completely pale.

Twenty minutes later, three dusty cardboard boxes sat on the conference table.

This time, Rowan did not read the documents like a wounded, angry husband looking for confirmation of betrayal. He read like a prosecutor looking for seams.

He found them within fifteen minutes.

One hotel lobby timestamp had been manually altered on the digital printout. One bank routing number on the charity transfer receipt did not match Maren’s actual checking history. And in one high-resolution photograph showing a woman entering a luxury hotel suite in a dark blue wool coat, Rowan noticed something he had missed during his rage.

In the brass reflection of the elevator doors behind the woman, the posture, the distinct gold bracelet, and the side profile belonged to Tessa Whitmore.

Rowan’s heart hammered against his ribs like a sledgehammer.

He dug deeper into the second box, pulling out a hidden payment ledger Ray had failed to destroy.

Large cash deposits. Recent wire transfers. All originating from Whitmore Consulting—Tessa’s corporate firm!

Near the back of the box, tucked inside a sealed manila envelope, was a signed witness statement from a downtown hotel receptionist named Denise Alvarez—a statement that had never appeared in Rowan’s final divorce file!

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Denise’s statement read: “The blonde woman who booked Suite 402 arrived an hour before the brunette. She brought a brown wig, a blue coat, and paid a male escort five thousand dollars to walk out of the room when the private investigator arrived. The brunette woman [Maren] was lured to the hotel by a fake text message claiming her husband had been in an accident.”

The entire scandal... was a fabricated setup.