Not perfume.
Hotel soap.
A clean, neutral scent.
He hated that he noticed.
Lauren entered the bathroom.
Andrew kept his eyes closed.
She showered.
When she returned, she placed the second phone into the nightstand drawer and got into bed.
Her breathing became steady eventually.
Andrew stared into darkness until sunrise.
The next afternoon, Tommy called.
“Wesley Grant.”
Andrew closed his office door.
“You’re sure?”
“I photographed them entering the Marriott together.”
Andrew sat.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
Tommy continued.
“I have them arriving separately, meeting in the lobby, going upstairs together, and leaving this morning within ten minutes of each other.”
Andrew pressed two fingers against his forehead.
“How long?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can you find out?”
“Possibly through additional documentation. But Andrew, you already have enough to answer the basic question.”
Andrew looked at a set of bridge repair drawings open on his desk.
Lines.
Loads.
Numbers.
Things that obeyed rules.
“Send me what you have.”
“I will.”
Then Tommy hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Grant’s name is circulating in professional litigation databases.”
“For what?”
“Billing disputes. A malpractice matter. Nothing proves fraud.”
Andrew frowned.
“You said fraud?”
“I didn’t.”
Tommy corrected him immediately.
“I said his name appears in billing-related disputes. Don’t turn that into a federal case in your head.”
Andrew almost laughed bitterly.
“I’m trying not to turn anything into anything.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
“I’ve watched people discover affairs before.”
Tommy paused.
“They start wanting every bad thing they hear about the other person to be true.”
Andrew looked out the window.
“What if it is?”
“Then evidence will survive patience.”
That sentence stayed with him.
Two nights later, Andrew confronted no one.
Instead, he met attorney James Whitmore.
James had handled Andrew’s father’s estate and several business matters.
He did not specialize exclusively in divorce, so he brought in a family-law partner named Rebecca Sloan.
Andrew placed Tommy’s photographs and the hotel receipt on the conference table.
Rebecca reviewed them.
“Do you want to end the marriage?”
Andrew stared at the photograph of Lauren entering the Marriott beside Wesley Grant.
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
Rebecca nodded.
“Then we focus on protecting you, not punishing her.”
“I’m not going to let her empty our accounts.”
“Do you have evidence she intends to?”
Andrew hesitated.
“No.”
“Then we do not invent it.”
Andrew looked at James.
Rebecca continued.
“We inventory assets. Statements. Retirement. Mortgage. Investments. Debts. We preserve records you are legally entitled to access. You do not break into private accounts, impersonate her, move joint funds secretly, destroy anything, or create a confrontation.”
“What about adultery?”
“That depends on jurisdiction and facts. It may matter in certain ways. It is not a magic button that gives you the house and every dollar.”
Andrew almost smiled.
“I didn’t think it was.”
“You would be surprised.”
She slid a legal pad toward him.
“Your daughters?”
“Adults. Emily is twenty-three. Chloe is twenty.”
“So custody is irrelevant.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“Now tell me about the second phone.”
Andrew did.
“Do not access it.”
“I won’t.”
“If messages appear on the locked screen while it is left in plain view, document only what you can lawfully observe. Then let us handle discovery later.”
Andrew nodded.
That night, Lauren’s phone lit again while she was downstairs.
Andrew was standing beside the bed.