The Private Eye and the Paper Trail

Daniel Hayes leaned back in his leather office chair, his arms crossed and his expression grim. Across from him, his brother Michael was pacing the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand.

"I'm telling you, Dan," Michael said, his tone urgent, "something's not right with this guy. Jace Hart is too perfect. No one's that perfect."

Daniel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get it, Mike. But we can't just accuse him of something without proof."

"Exactly," Michael said, stopping in his tracks. "Which is why we need to hire someone to dig into his past. A private investigator."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "A PI? Isn't that a little… extreme?"

"Extreme?" Michael repeated, his voice rising. "Cora's our sister, Dan. If this guy's hiding something, we need to know."

There was a long silence as Daniel considered this. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. But we need to be careful. If Cora finds out, she'll never forgive us."

Michael grinned, his eyes gleaming. "Don't worry. I know just the guy."

Frank Mulligan was not what you'd call a top-tier private investigator. He was more of a "bottom-tier, barely scraping by" kind of PI. His office was a cramped room above a laundromat, his desk was cluttered with empty coffee cups and half-eaten sandwiches, and his most recent case had involved tracking down a missing cat.

But Frank had one thing going for him: he was cheap. And when Michael Hayes called him, offering a hefty paycheck to investigate Jace Hart, Frank jumped at the opportunity.

"So, let me get this straight," Frank said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on his desk. "You want me to dig up dirt on your sister's husband?"

"Yes," Michael said, his tone firm. "But we need to be discreet. If Cora finds out, we're dead."

Frank grinned, his eyes gleaming. "Discreet is my middle name."

Frank's first order of business was to tail Jace. He parked his beat-up sedan outside Jace's office building, a pair of binoculars in one hand and a bag of donuts in the other.

"Okay, Frank," he muttered to himself, adjusting the binoculars. "Just stay cool. Stay professional."

But staying cool was easier said than done. Frank's attempts at stealth were comically inept. He accidentally photobombed a selfie with a tourist, got locked in a janitor's closet while trying to sneak into Jace's office, and mistook Jace's assistant, Ethan, for a shady business associate.

"Who's that guy?" Frank muttered, snapping a blurry photo of Ethan as he walked out of the building. "He looks suspicious."

Meanwhile, Jace was completely oblivious to Frank's presence. He was too busy dealing with the fallout from his steamy moment with Cora the night before.

Back at the penthouse, Cora was pacing the living room, her mind racing. She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss—the way Jace's lips had felt on hers, the way his hands had gripped her waist, the way he'd looked at her afterward.

"Get it together, Cora," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the memory. It was like a song stuck in her head, playing on repeat.

When Jace walked in, carrying a bag of groceries, Cora froze.

"Hey," Jace said, his tone casual.

"Hey," Cora said, her voice slightly higher than usual.

There was a long, awkward silence as they stared at each other, the tension in the room palpable.

"So," Jace said finally, setting the groceries on the counter. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Cora said, her tone clipped. "Yours?"

"Busy," Jace said, his tone equally clipped.

Another silence.

"Well," Cora said, grabbing her jacket. "I'm going for a walk."

"Okay," Jace said, not looking at her.

Cora walked out the door, letting out a long breath as soon as she was outside.

While Cora and Jace were busy avoiding each other, Frank was finally having some luck. He'd managed to sneak into Jace's office building and was now rifling through the trash in the alley behind the building.

"Come on, Frank," he muttered, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "You're due for a break."

And then he saw it—a receipt for a Vegas chapel.

"Bingo," Frank said, his eyes gleaming.

He snapped a photo of the receipt and sent it to Michael with the caption: "Looks like your boy's planning a secret second wedding."

That evening, Cora returned to the penthouse to find Jace sitting on the couch, his expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," Jace said, his tone serious.

Cora's stomach dropped. "About what?"

"About… us," Jace said, his voice hesitant.

Cora felt a flicker of panic, but before she could respond, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Daniel: "We need to talk. Now."