The detective’s voice crackled through the phone. “We’ve been tailing your husband for days now, but I have to hand it to the guy—he’s careful. Whenever he’s out in public with her, they keep their distance. No hand-holding, no obvious flirting. It’s like he’s making a show of playing it cool so no one can actually catch them in the act.”
He paused, then added, “Now, in private, your husband has visited her apartment a couple of times. We tried to get photos, but there was nothing too steamy. No smoking gun, if you know what I mean.”
Camila Davis felt her stomach twist.
Anyone with eyes could see the chemistry between them, but she hadn’t expected Jordan Smith to be so... calculated about it.
Was he that worried about an affair blowing up and hurting The Smith Group?
“Wait, there’s more,” the detective said suddenly, as if remembering something. “Your place—the Smith Estate, right? A few nights ago, Ms. Taylor and her son stayed over. They didn’t leave all night. Do you have any cameras in the house? If so, we might finally get some real evidence.”
“What?” Camila blinked, stunned.
As the shock wore off, she felt a wave of nausea. Jordan had really brought Sandra Taylor home with him already?
She almost laughed—it was so grotesque that it bordered on ridiculous.
Was he really that desperate?
But, she thought, there probably wasn’t much to see on the security cameras. Jordan valued his privacy. The only cameras in the house were in Lillian’s playroom and bedroom; the rest were just common areas—kitchen, living room—where staff came and went.
There’s no way Jordan would risk getting cozy with Sandra in front of the cleaning staff.
And as for his own bedroom, that was strictly off-limits.
Camila considered her options and replied, “I’ll see what I can do. But you guys need to keep digging. We need solid proof, fast.”
A lawsuit would be quicker than waiting out the two-year separation for a no-fault divorce. And honestly, she was done—she couldn’t stand being married to Jordan Smith a moment longer.
***
After everything that happened with the Smith family, Camila kept a close eye on Lillian for the next two days, making sure her little girl was really okay before sending her back to school.
That morning, she got a text from Aaron: “Ms. Davis, Mr. Williams is back in Harrisburg. He’d like to have dinner with you tonight, and check in on Lillian’s therapy.”
Camila perked up instantly. “Absolutely! I’ll bring Lillian. We’ll be there on time!”
With a lighter heart, she powered through her work for the day.
But mid-afternoon, her phone rang. It was Larry Adams, the school counselor.


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