Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 42

York quickly pulled his car over to the curb, grabbed his phone, and dialed his assistant while scanning the hotel's sign above the entrance.

The call connected.

"Find out which group owns Balthazar's Steakhouse and who's in charge," he instructed without preamble.

He ended the call and waited.

There was no way this place belonged to Windsor & Co.—Willow wouldn't be so foolish as to pick a hotel owned by her husband's family for an affair. But if it happened to belong to one of their mutual acquaintances, York could always ask for a favor and get access to Willow's check-in records.

His phone buzzed with a callback almost immediately.

"Mr. Sinclair, Balthazar's Steakhouse is part of The Scott Group's luxury hotel chain. The current CEO is Zachariah Scott."

Zachariah? The name rang no bells. Not someone from his circle, then.

York frowned, slightly disappointed. He'd come so close—just outside the door, only one step away from catching her in the act. But he wasn't about to play paparazzi and stake out the entrance just to help his friend catch a cheating wife. Besides, he'd only been back in the country a few days and had already run into this woman multiple times. It almost felt like fate was pushing him to uncover her secrets, so there was no need to rush.

After a moment's thought, York decided to let Willow off the hook for now. He turned the car around and drove off.

*

Back in her hotel room, Willow sat down at her laptop and immediately got to work. She attached a small Trojan program she'd written to a photo link, then headed to a certain someone's Twitter post—a nine-image collage from a trendy restaurant.

She left a comment under the post, including the link: "What a coincidence! I ate at this place last month too. Here's a picture I took then, though it's nowhere near as nice as yours."

But it was too late for her target—the Trojan had already embedded itself in the phone of the person who'd falsely accused her of plagiarism, clinging on like a shadow.

She closed the real estate site and opened a new program, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Her slender, nimble fingers danced across the keys, and soon she'd pulled up the person's WhatsApp message history.

Now came the tedious part: skimming through the chat logs for anything useful.

The hotel room was silent, save for the occasional tap of her keyboard. Time drifted by, the afternoon sun slowly shifting.

"Huh?" Willow paused, eyes widening with surprise at something she'd just found in the messages she'd screenshotted.