FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS (Ophelia Corrigan) novel Chapter 133

CHAPTER 133

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The second message came in at 6:17.

I was still in the apartment’s office, the first screenshot open on my monitor and a glass of whiskey sitting untouched next to the keyboard.

I hadn’t been able to shake those three sentences all day.

But I also hadn’t done the easiest thing in the world, which would’ve been to take three messages with no context and turn them into a verdict against the woman I was planning to marry.

I knew Jamie.

I knew the way she lied badly when she was trying to hide a gift. I knew the little crease between her eyebrows when she was worried. I knew the specific silence she made when she was angry and the completely different one when she was hurt.

And above all, I knew the woman who shared my bed.

If someone expected me to see that intern’s name on a screen and immediately conclude Jamie was sleeping with him, they’d picked the wrong man.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

This time, there was no text.

Just a photograph.

I opened it.

Jamie appeared from behind, getting into the back seat of a black car. Ethan stood next to her, leaning toward the door. His hand seemed too close to the small of her back because of the angle, though when I zoomed in, I realized he wasn’t touching her.

The framing did the rest.

The two of them.

The same car.

No one else visible.

No license plate to identify the location.

No driver.

No context.

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FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS

Just trees, a stone fence, and a piece of a light-colored building in the background.

oomed in.

Then zoomed in again.`

The first thing I noticed was the light.

The photograph had been taken in the late afternoon.

The second was the car.

It wasn’t a regular taxi either.

There was a small silver crest on the rear door, partially cut off by the edge of the photo.

I zoomed in until the image started losing definition.

Or maybe two letters overlapping.

I checked the time the message had arrived. Then the available metadata. Nothing useful. The image had probably gone through another app before it got to me.

Still, one thing was clear.

Someone was trying to manipulate me.

“Who are you?”

The phone, obviously, didn’t answer.

I sent a single message.

“If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

The three dots didn’t appear.

No response.

I smiled without humor.

Of course.

The person didn’t want to talk to me.

They wanted to talk to the worst part of me.

The possessive part. The jealous part. The part that looked at another man near Jamie and thought with its fists first.

Except I was past the age of handing my decisions over to that version of myself.

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I saved the photograph to a folder along with the screenshots and forwarded everything to a contact who could trace more than I could on my own.

Then I locked the screen.

I’d find out who was doing this.

But first, I was going to talk to her.

I heard the apartment door a little after seven.

The kids’ voices came first.

Jack was arguing about something related to a game. Sam was saying it wasn’t his fault. Lily was talking over both of them with the endless energy of a child who hadn’t yet discovered the concept of silence.

Then I heard Jamie.

“One at a time. I’ve only got two ears.”

I smiled before I could stop myself.

It didn’t last.

Footsteps approached the hallway. A few seconds later, she appeared in the office doorway, still with her bag on her shoulder.

“So this is where you are.”

She looked at me, maybe noticing the seriousness on my face.

The smile disappeared.

“What happened?”

I pointed at the door.

“Close it.”

She didn’t move for a second.

“Simon.”

“Close the door, Jamie.”

She closed it.

Jamie set her bag on an armchair and walked over to the desk.

“You’re scaring me.”

“You don’t need to be scared.”

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“That sentence has never comforted anyone in the history of humanity.”

Nimost smiled

Almost.

I turned the monitor toward her.

“I got this today.”

Jamie’s face changed the second she saw the screenshots.

First confusion.

Then shock.

She leaned toward the screen.

“What?”

I didn’t answer.

She read the messages once. Then again.

“Simon, this is cut off.”

Jamie looked up at me.

“There are messages missing.”

“I figured.”

“I said I wanted to tell you when I knew if the place would work. That was in the conversation.”

“I figured there was context.”

The tension in her shoulders eased a little, but it came right back the moment I clicked on the next photograph.

Jamie went still.

“Where did you get this?”

“Same number.”

She looked at the image.

“Oh my God.”

“Jamie.”

“This was today.”

“I know.”

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“Was someone there?”

Apparently.”

She ran a hand through her hair, looking from the photograph back to me.

“Simon, I can explain.”

Jamie took a deep breath.

“The Whitmore House.”

I waited.

55 vouchers

“It’s a wedding venue outside Manhattan. I found it when I started looking at places. It was completely booked, but Ethan saw the website open on my computer and recognized the name. He grew up with Vivian, the owner’s daughter. He asked if I wanted him to check whether any cancellations had opened up.”

I looked at the photograph again.

The crest.

“Margaret Whitmore,” Jamie continued. “Vivian’s mother. There was a cancellation. She was able to see us today so I could tour the property.”

“Us?”

“Me and Ethan. He made the introduction because he knows the family. That’s it.”

I looked back at the photograph.

“You thought I was having something with Ethan?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

She blinked.

“No?”

“No.”

“Then why the face?”

I lifted my eyes to her.

“Because someone got access to a private conversation of yours, cut out exactly the parts that explained the context, got a photograph of you hours later, and sent both to me.”

“That person has access to my phone.”

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“Or your account.”

1. This is serious.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of it for you quickly.”

My voice came out colder than I intended.

“I’ll find out where the messages came from, who had access to your accounts, and who took that photograph.”