What if it was the investigator? She’d asked him to contact her immediately with whatever information he found.

“They’re…?” Shane prompted.

She sighed. “Give me a second.” She reached for the phone, needing to check.

It was the investigator. He’d sent one short text:

Source confirmed. Shane Pryce.

Chapter Eighteen

Ginger stared at the text, unsure what it meant. Shane Pryce. There had to be other Shane Pryces out there.

Why would Shane send a set of photoshopped photos to himself from Ohio? It didn’t make any sense.

On the other hand, Debbie had been so confident in the private investigator’s ability. And the PI had no reason to make anything up.

She gripped the edge of the table as her knees started to shake. Spots appeared in her vision, swirling around. A familiar voice called out to her, but it was strangely muted—there seemed to be cotton balls in her ears. Then everything faded away.

When she opened her eyes, she was looking at Shane’s face, which was only a few inches away from hers. His complexion had paled, gone almost bloodless as he stared down at her. Where was she?

She was on a couch—her couch. All her notebooks and things were scattered on the floor. Her lips were dry, and she licked them. “Get me my phone.”

“I can call you a doctor,” Shane said.

“No. My phone.” She winced at how weak and whiny she sounded. But she didn’t have a lot of energy, and she didn’t want to argue.

He brought her the phone from the dining table. She checked the text. It was still there. Source confirmed. Shane Pryce.

Her fingers shook as she typed a response: Shane Pryce is the one who made the photos? Is that what you’re saying?

Soon he replied: Mailed. Don’t know who took the photos.

Do you know which Shane Pryce? There are a lot of people with that name.

Don’t have the full name, but the two middle initials are L. A.

Her stomach churned violently, and she put a hand over her mouth. Unable to wait any longer, she rushed to the bathroom and threw up everything she’d had earlier that day.

“Ginger, are you okay?” Shane rubbed her back, his big hand warm and soothing.

She closed her eyes as they teared up. He seemed to have no idea he was at the center of her misery. Or was that an act too? His medical records said he didn’t remember, but that was based on what he’d told them, not something doctors could check independently. It wasn’t like they could read his mind.

She couldn’t look at him. It made her want to throw up again. She opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but her throat was so raw all she could do was croak, “Get out.”

“Ginger—”

“Get out!” She hung her head, scrunching her eyes shut. “Get out!”

Shane hesitated—she could feel him hovering near her. He had to leave before she did something she didn’t mean to. “Get…out.”

Finally he said, “Call me.” Then with a final pat on her back, he left her apartment.

* * *

What the fuck had happened back there? Shane stopped in front of his car and spun around to face her apartment building. Her unit still had the lights on.

She hadn’t been upset at first, but something had really done a job on her. His instincts were screaming at him to stay with her, but she’d looked like she’d shatter if he breathed wrong. He had to back off, give her some time to recoup before they both did something they’d regret later.

It had to be the text she’d gotten. He should’ve insisted that she ignore it until they got their issues figured out first. He’d been planning to have her move in with him and get rid of her apartment. He’d been fully prepared to tie the knot ASAP.

He needed to know what was in the text to fix the mess. He called Mark. “What does the family do when we want something somewhat shady taken care of?” he asked.

“Uh.” Mark cleared his throat. “What kind of shady stuff are you talking about?”

“I want to look at somebody’s texts.”

“Oh, that kind of stuff.” A short pause. “You, ah, wouldn’t be trying to hack into Ginger’s texts or anything, would you?”

“What if I am?”

“It’s better if you don’t. I don’t know what happened between the two of you that you left the States and ignored her, but you can’t have any meaningful relationship if you have to monitor her every move. Not even Dad did that with Mom. If you can’t trust her a hundred percent, then you should stop seeing her.”

“It’s not like that, Mark.”

A sigh. “You’re a smart guy, so I’ll quit nagging.”

“The person I should be calling?” Shane prompted.

“It should be on your phone. Listed under The Man, your nickname for Benjamin Clark.”

Shane thanked Mark and found The Man.

A cold, professional female voice answered. “Yes, Mr. Pryce?”

“I want Ginger Maxwell’s texts for the last three weeks sent over. Her number is…”

Chapter Nineteen

Debbie was a true friend. She didn’t wrinkle her nose at the mess that was Ginger’s apartment, she arrived in pajamas…and she came in carrying two cartons of chocolate ice cream and three boxes of Godiva truffles.

“I’m not letting you spend the night alone. We’re having a sleepover, just like back in high school,” Debbie said, explaining away her yellow Winnie the Poo pajamas. “You sounded absolutely wretched over the phone. What’s wrong?” She sat on the couch, giving Ginger a spoon and a carton.

Ginger took a bite of the sinfully rich ice cream. “The investigator your Dad referred me to came through.”

“Okay… That’s good, right?”

Ginger blinked as more tears came. “I don’t know. I wish I’d never tried to find out.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“Shane mailed the pictures.”

“What? Like your fiancé Shane?”

Ginger nodded as her face was too scrunched to speak.

“That rat bastard. Can I set him on fire?”

“No. I don’t want to see you go to jail.”

“If we get even one female juror at my trial, I’ll be acquitted.” Debbie ripped open a box of truffles and handed it to Ginger. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Ginger stuffed a piece into her mouth.

“I knew the Pryce family was messed up, but wow. Shane takes the gold medal for the fucked up asshole division. Who mails himself fake pics of his girlfriend? And for what reason?”

“That’s what I don’t understand. It wasn’t like we were married and he was trying to avoid paying alimony or something. All he had to do was break up with me. It would’ve hurt like hell, but I would’ve moved on.”

“Seriously.” Debbie started to spoon her ice cream up with more fury. “Just because he’s a messed up psycho doesn’t mean everyone else is.” Her face took on a pensive look. “Wow, you know…what he did almost makes Dane look normal.”

Ginger snorted, then sobered. She still couldn’t believe everything had been lies—his courage to be able to say he was sorry when he knew he was wrong even back in high school, and the way he’d been always so true to her. She still loved him.

“Hey,” Debbie said, reading her look. “You dodged a bullet.”

“But it hurts.” Ginger swallowed a big lump. “Instead of feeling relieved, I want to crawl into a hole and never come out.”

“Aw, sweetie.” Debbie hugged her. “It hurts now, but it won’t hurt forever. Just give it some time. There are billions of men out there. Surely there’s one for you.”

“Yeah…you’re right.” But Ginger couldn’t help but think that the only man for her was Shane.

* * *

Source confirmed. Shane Pryce.

Shane Pryce is the one who made the photos? Is that what you’re saying?