The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

“We have to find this woman,” I said at once. “We need to make sure she’s okay, firstly, and secondly

“She’d be a hell of a person to have on our side if any of this is real,” Mabel filled in.

“That, too,” I said, though her safety was my main concern.

“We’re already on the case,” Maria said. “Mike has tracked down old employee records. With the dates the Assistant provided, we should be able to find the right person. It might mean making a few embarrassing phone calls though.”

“I don’t mind doing that,” I said.

“None of us do,” Dylan agreed. “I also wouldn’t mind talking to the Assistant themselves. It sounds like they might have a treasure trove of knowledge.”

“They’ve sent more than one email,” Maria said. “Why don’t you guys come over? We can go through this

together.”

Looking at the group, I could see how their spirits were lifted slightly. But there were also mostly–empty bottles on the table in front of them.

“We wouldn’t be of use to anyone tonight,” I tell Maria. “A few shades to the wind, if you catch my drift.”

Maria snorted a laugh. “Just how drunk are you guys?”

“Enough,” I replied. “How about in the morning?”

“We’ll be here.”

After hanging up with Maria, it didn’t take long before I directed Mabel to the couch and Dylan to the recliner. I hid everyone’s keys then dragged Logan upstairs.

He wasn’t as drunk as our friends, but he was definitely tipsy, all smiles and hums and sloppy kisses.

“I love this dress on you…” he said as we pushed into the bedroom. His hands move toward the sleeves of the dress. Slowly, he pushes them down, off my shoulders. “But I like it better on the floor.”

Mouths pressing together, we stumbled toward the bed and fell onto it.

Drunk as we were, we pawed at each other. Too soon, though, we both fell asleep before much else could happen.

The next morning, we sat crammed in Mike’s cluttered apartment. Each with our own laptop or tablet, we divided the emails and scrolled through our fair share.

“Some of this is… not as damning as others,” Dylan said. “Don’t get me wrong. A lot of it is hell, and he should be held accountable, but I doubt that anyone really cares if he sometimes puts an ice cube in his

wine.”

“Damning.” Mabel said with a laugh.

“Here,” I said, pointed to an email on my laptop screen “Our Assistant put the dates of his employment. God, that’s a long time. Does any of this add up?”

ΤΗ

Using the dates, we cross–referenced with the employment records and came up with one name.

“Walter Hudgens is the only one with employment dates matching those years,” Maria said.

“Walter Hudgens?” Logan repeated in disbelief. “That can’t be right.”

“You know him?” I asked.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Walter Hudgens was a long time employee at Hatfield Supply. He might have even been there with my grandfather from the start.”

“The records show, two years after opening was his start date,” Maria clarified.

“He moved up to executive,” Logan said. “He sat on the board for years. No way he would speak against Grandfather now.”

“Why not now?” Mabel said. “Hazel heard the whispers. We’ve all heard the rumors. The tide is turning for Mr. Hatfield Senior. Who would know his dealings better than someone who worked alongside him?”

“He’d likely be implicating himself,” Logan said.

“Old men sometimes grow consciences,” Dylan said. “He could be looking at his life and his own legacy, and thinking about the kind of man he wants to be remembered as.” Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

“He does have grandchildren,” Logan said, thoughtful. Ten of them, last I checked.”

“That might be his motivation,” Dylan pressed.

“I don’t know,” Logan said. “It just seems too far–fetched.”

I considered every side. “Why don’t we talk to him?” I asked Logan. “If it’s not him or if he doesn’t want to share, he’ll turn us away. But it if it is him, we could gain so much more than we might lose.”

“She makes a good point,” Mabel said. “I’m for it.”

“Me, too,” Maria added,

“After checking him out on line, he really doesn’t seem like a bad guy,” Mike said. “Worst he would do is

say no.”

“You know him best,” I said, at Logan’s hesitation. “If you don’t feel like he’d help us, we’ll respect your judgement.”

Logan looked at everyone in the room before his gaze found mind again. In the time that took, he seemed to resolve himself to a decision.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

An hour later, Logan and I went alone to Walter Hodgens‘ estate. There was a gate blocking the blocking the driveway. He stopped there and Logan leaned out to press the bell on the call box.

“What is it?” someone asked, their voice crackling on the speaker.

“Mr. and Mrs. Logan Hatfield,” Logan said. I shivered in delight, still hearing myself openly referred to as that. I couldn’t get enough of being acknowledged as Logan’s wife. “We hope to visit Mr. Hodgens

“One moment.”

Logan glanced back at me. “Here goes nothing.”

I gave him a confident thumbs–up, which made him smile.

Then, suddenly, a buzzer sounded. The gate began to open.

“Please proceed to the main entrance,” the volce said from the box.

“Thanks,” Logan replied.

When the gate opened wide enough, he pushed the car forward. The driveway was long, turning up the side of a grassy hill to the top where a massive brick mansion sat. There, the driveway circled around a fountain before disappearing back down the hill.

Logan parked near the fountain and after another quick glance to one another, we exited the vehicle. Logan came around, taking my hand when he was close enough, and together, we went up to the porch.

Before we could even knock, the door swung open, revealing an older man in his seventies with thinning

gray

hair and a hefty mustache. This glasses were thick prescription lenses, making his eyes seem larger than they could possibly be in truth.

That enlargement made his expression easier to discern. The eyes were a gateway to the soul, and this

access. man’s glasses gave everyone

He looked from me to Logan and sighed.

“Mr. Hudgens,” Logan said in greeting.

I dipped my head at once. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said to me quickly, before looking back to Logan. “I should have known you’d track me down. I didn’t think it’d be quite this fast but… that’s the internet for you, I guess.”

“We’re hoping you might be willing to talk with us directly,” Logan said. “I understand you might not want to come forward publically, but anything you can tell us would be a benefit.”

“I dug my own grave here,” Mr. Hudgens said.

“We could leave,” I suggested. “We don’t want to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine, though you are sweet to offer it,” he said to me. “Honestly, I’d been waiting for this day to come for fifty years. I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

“You’ll help up?” Logan asked, hope rising in his voide.

Mr. Hudgens nodded. “Let’s take that old bastard down once and for all ”