Before we reached the altar, my three-year-old grandson squeezed my hand and whispered, “Grandpa, she was mean to Mommy.” Then he pointed toward my future wife and pulled a USB drive from his tiny pocket—one that would soon reveal the truth she had been hiding.

She reached for my arm.

Lucas made a frightened sound.

Not loud.

Just enough.

He pressed himself against my leg.

I stepped between them.

“Lucas is tired.”

“Go back to the ballroom.”

Monica’s eyes narrowed.

“Victor.”

“Go to the ballroom.”

My voice was firm enough that the bridesmaids nearby suddenly became very interested in the flowers.

Monica stared at me.

Trying to calculate.

Then she smiled again.

“Fine.”

“Five minutes.”

She walked away.

I watched until she disappeared.

Then I took Lucas into the hotel room where I had changed.

Locked the door.

And opened my laptop.

PART 6