Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 181

Jordan Smith didn’t try to stop him.

After a few minutes, Nathan Gates came knocking at the door. “Boss, we caught the guy who was tailing you.”

Jordan’s eyes darkened. “Bring him in,” he ordered.

Nathan nodded and gestured to the bodyguards.

A moment later, the guards marched in, dragging a nervous-looking man between them.

Jordan settled onto the couch, radiating authority. His voice was cold, demanding, “Alright, talk. Who are you? Why are you following us? What do you want?”

The young man clammed up, refusing to say a word at first.

But it didn’t take Nathan long to frisk him and pull out a wallet and a business card.

“Private Investigator, huh? So you’re a P.I.?”

The guy’s face paled and he tried to hide the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, but Nathan was quicker. He snatched it away and unzipped it.

Inside—no surprise—a camera.

Nathan powered it on, scrolled through the photos, and his face turned grim. He handed the camera to Jordan. “Boss, these are of you and… Ms. Taylor.”

Jordan’s expression darkened as he flipped through shot after shot of him and Sandra Taylor together.

Nearly every photo captured their interactions—walking out of a restaurant, getting into a car, sitting together at a coffee shop.

The anger in Jordan’s eyes was unmistakable. “Who hired you? I want the truth, or I’ll make sure you never work in Harrisburg again.”

The detective blanched. He knew Jordan Smith’s reputation—and his power.

He stammered, “It was Mrs. Smith. She wanted evidence you were cheating. Taking the photos… it’s just standard procedure. That’s how the job works.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Jordan was livid. He couldn’t believe Camila Davis would stoop to this—hiring a private eye to tail him.

And judging by the number of photos, this wasn’t the first day she’d done it.

Jordan glared at the detective. “How many more photos are there? I want everything. Hand it all over, or your agency shuts down tonight.”

The detective went pale. This was his livelihood.

He sputtered, “They’re all in my bag—the negatives too. But honestly, there’s nothing in there you could use as evidence. Nothing compromising.”

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