Chapter 59 — No Weakness
Ryan hired a private investigator at 9:30 the next morning and paid extra for speed, which proved he still confused urgency with competence.
The investigator was called Tom Bell. Former police. Current cynic.
He had an office above a pharmacy and the eyes of a man who knew most secrets were not clever. Ryan arrived without an appointment.
Money fixed it. “Find me something on Eleanor Hart,” he said.
Tom looked at him over reading glasses. “Define something.”
“Anything.” “Affair? Debt? Criminal record? Hidden account? Angry ex?”
Ryan flinched at ex. “Weakness.”
Tom took the envelope of cash and did not smile. “Weakness is broad.”
“So is the fee.” For once, Ryan had chosen the right sentence.
By four, Tom called back with a tone Ryan did not like. “Come in.”
“Just tell me.” “No. You paid for disappointment. You can collect it in person.”
Ryan arrived wet, sleepless, and still wearing yesterday’s shirt under a new jacket.
Tom placed a thin file on the desk. Ryan stared.
“That is all?” “That is the point.”
Tom opened it. “Eleanor Hart. Thirty-two. Educated privately, then university.”
“Minimal public profile. Beneficiary of a family trust established before your marriage. No personal insolvency. No criminal record. No civil judgments. No unexplained debt.”
Ryan’s face tightened.
Tom continued. “Employment through Grantham Domestic Staffing appears legitimate. References verified. Tax records consistent. No fake identity. No forged documents.”
“She pretended to be a maid.” “No. She was employed as one.”
“She is worth millions.” “Rich people can mop floors. Strange, but legal.”
Ryan hated him immediately. “What about Hart Capital?”
“Properly structured. Aggressive, yes. Illegal, no. Very clean filings.”
“Clean?” “Annoyingly clean.”
Tom turned another page. “Marriage assets. You may struggle.”
Ryan looked up. “Why?”
“Trust assets pre-date marriage and appear excluded. Your investment flat, however, was purchased during marriage and partly serviced through accounts with mixed funds.”
Ryan stood. “I did not ask you to investigate me.”
Tom did not move. “No. But people connected to clean women often create dirty paperwork.”
The sentence sat between them. Ryan slowly sat back down.
“Is there anything?” he asked.
Tom hesitated. “Her father.”
Ryan leaned forward. “What?”
“Edward Hart was linked to a failed arbitration years ago. Reputation damage, no prosecution.”
“A messy commercial dispute. Someone may try to make noise with it.”
“Can it hurt her?” Tom closed the file.
“In court? Unlikely. In the press? Anything can bleed if cut loudly enough.”
Ryan thought of Victor’s file. Something about your father.
He had repeated it like concern. Now he understood it had been bait.
“What else?” “Nothing useful.”
“No weaknesses?” Tom looked at him.
“Mr Hart, everyone has weaknesses. Hers are not available to you.”
That hurt more than insult.
Ryan had lived for years assuming access was intimacy. He had shared a bed with me and never reached the locked room.
Tom slid a second sheet across the desk. “You, however, have several.”
Ryan did not touch it. “Hotel records. Unusual transfers. Company approvals. Communications with Ms Monroe. Public confrontation risk. Potential witness exposure.”
“Stop.” Tom stopped.
Then added, “Free advice. Stop looking for her weakness and hire a proper solicitor for yours.”
Ryan left with the thin file under his arm.
Outside, rain had begun again. It seemed personal now.
He sat in his car and opened the folder to the photograph Tom had printed. Me at twenty-six, beside my father, at a private foundation event.
I looked calm. Untouchable.
Not because I had no pain yet. Because I had not met Ryan.
His phone buzzed. Victor. Ryan rejected the call.
Then Lila messaged. I talked.
Ryan stared at those two words. For a moment, he did not understand.
Then the news alert appeared. Sources say a former executive assistant has provided investigators with digital records.
Ryan whispered one word.
“No.” But the phone had already learned to ignore him.