Chapter 3: What the Photos Knew
Paige stared at the message until the screen went dark.
Gavin was still watching her.
His mouth was open slightly, like he was about to say something, and then thought better of it.
"You know what photos they mean," she said.
It wasn't a question.
He looked at the floor.
"Gavin."
"There was a night," he said slowly.
"About three months before the wedding.
You were at that hotel in Brickell — the one Raymond owns.
You didn't know I'd arranged for someone to be there."
The air left her lungs.
"What did you arrange?"
"Nothing happened.
I swear to you nothing happened.
But the way it looks in the photos—" He stopped.
"Raymond was there.
You were there.
His hand was on your shoulder.
You looked like you were—"
"I was trying to leave." Her voice was flat.
"I remember that night.
He cornered me in the hallway.
I was trying to get past him."
"I know that."
"But the photos don't show that."
Gavin said nothing.
Paige walked to the window.
Outside, two police cruisers were parked near the emergency entrance.
She watched them without moving.
"Who has them?"
"A man named Decker.
He worked for one of Raymond's old business partners — a man called Whitmore.
Stuart Whitmore."
The name meant nothing to her.
"And what does Whitmore want?"
"He wants Raymond's hotel portfolio.
Three properties in Las Vegas.
Raymond refused to sell two years ago and Whitmore never forgave him." Gavin finally looked up.
"He's been waiting for an opening.
The wedding gave him one."
"So Whitmore dr*gged Raymond's drink."
"I don't know who did it.
I only know Whitmore's people were at the reception.
And now Raymond is in there—" He gestured toward the ICU doors.
"—and Whitmore's lawyers are already moving on the Las Vegas properties."
Paige turned from the window.
"And the photos are his insurance.
If I go to the police, he releases them and I look like I was in on it."
Gavin sat down heavily in a plastic chair.
He looked like a man who had been carrying something for a long time and had finally put it down in the wrong place.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I thought I was protecting your mother.
I thought Raymond would just be a rich old man who left you alone.
I didn't know any of this would—"
"Stop." She held up one hand.
"I don't want to hear it right now."
A doctor in green scrubs pushed through the ICU doors and scanned the waiting room.
His eyes landed on Paige.
"Mrs.
Carver?"
She crossed the room in four steps.
"How is he?"
"He's stable.
The substance in his system was a sedative compound — not something you'd find at a pharmacy.
Whoever put it in his drink knew what they were doing." The doctor paused.
"He's going to regain consciousness.
But when he does, he's going to have questions.
And so will the police."
"When will they want to speak to me?"
"There's a detective already here.
He's been waiting since two a.m."
Paige glanced back at Gavin.
He had his face in his hands.
She looked at the doctor.
"Tell the detective I'll speak to him now."
She walked toward the consultation room at the end of the hall.
Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
Same unknown number.
*"Wrong choice.
May you like
You have one hour."*
She kept walking.
