Cole hadn’t planned to snoop, well not exactly.
But after everything—the photos, the bird, the envelope on Tiffany’s window—he couldn’t shake the feeling that Landon was hiding more than just manipulation.
He waited until the house was empty: Tracey was at her yoga group, Landon was out for a “client dinner,” and Tiffany was resting upstairs, headphones on, drowning in a playlist she called Don’t Fall Apart Today.
Cole slipped into Landon’s study and shut the door behind him.
The drawers were locked.
He used the screwdriver he’d hidden in his hoodie pocket.
The first drawer held nothing but receipts and boring paperwork. So did the second.
But the third?
At the very back, wedged under a folder of tax documents, was a little flash drive.
Black. Unlabeled. This was a different one.
