Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Anna’s POV:

I drummed my fingers against my desk before calling Matthew. It was late, but this case couldn’t

wait.

“Matthew Ward,” he answered, voice clear despite the hour.

“Hi Matthew, Anna here. I hope I’m not calling too late. Do you have any information on Tyler Hodges?”

“Good timing, actually. I was just reviewing his file,” he replied. I heard papers shuffling. “Tyler has an ex–wife named Jenny and a seven–year–old daughter, Lily. They divorced three months ago- financial problems, mainly. But here’s what’s interesting: he still hangs around places they might

show up.”

“That’s helpful,” I said, grabbing a notepad. “Please continue.”

“I handled some of their paperwork. The guy seemed genuinely torn up about the divorce. Jenny opened a small breakfast café six months ago. She’s struggling to make ends meet while raising their daughter alone.”

“His family could be a pressure point,” I said, thinking aloud. “If someone’s paying him to lie, his ex and daughter might be the key to getting him to crack.”

“Exactly. I’ve sent you her café address. It’s in a working–class neighborhood across town.”

After hanging up, I spent an hour reviewing Matthew’s detailed notes. Jenny’s breakfast café barely turned a profit. The little girl, Lily, attended the local elementary school. They lived in a small apartment two blocks from the café.

Then I called Michael.

He picked up on the third ring. Male laughter echoed in the background.

“Garcia,” he answered, sounding relaxed.

“Hi Michael, it’s Anna Wright. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Just watch duty with the guys. What can I help you with?”

“I have a theory about Tyler I’d like your input on,” explained. “Would you be able to check if there are any suspicious transactions in either Tyler’s or Jenny’s accounts? Also, I need information about Jenny’s café lease. Something doesn’t add up.”

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“Of course, I’ll look into it,” he replied. “I’ll call you tomorrow with whatever I find.”

“Thank you, Michael. I really appreciate it.”

The next morning, I observed Jenny at her café at seven.

Thin and exhausted–looking, she handled the breakfast rush alone.

Around eight, a burly man in a leather jacket entered, bypassing the counter to confront Jenny

directly.

His aggressive posture contrasted with her fearful demeanor as he demanded money. She handed over an envelope that clearly disappointed him. After he left, Jenny disappeared briefly, returning with reddened eyes.

When she went out at nine, I positioned myself to follow her discreetly.

Jenny collected her daughter, Lily, who wore worn, too–small clothes with pigtails.

At school, a boy yanked one of Lily’s pigtails, breaking the hair tie and taunting her as “Freak!”

Lily showed no reaction, as if accustomed to bullying. Jenny knelt to fix her hair, promising new hair

ties on the weekend.

After Lily entered school, Jenny remained at the gate, crying when she thought no one was

watching.

Given their struggles, should I really be questioning them?

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the police cruiser that pulled alongside me until an officer stepped

out.

“Anna Wright?” His tone made it a statement, not a question,

“Yes?”

“Please put your hands behind your back.”

“What? Why?” I looked around, wondering if this was some kind of mistake.

“Ma’am, please comply.” His partner had joined him now, hand resting casually on his holster.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the same holding facility where I’d interviewed Tyler the day

before.

“Well, well! Look who’s here!” Tyler rushed to the bars separating our cells. “Hey, officer, she’s here

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now–can I get out?”

“Quiet down, Hodges,” the officer warned before leaving us alone.

I sat on the narrow cot, mind racing. This had to be the Wright family’s doing.

My visit to Tyler yesterday must have spooked whoever was pulling his strings. Enough to abuse their influence and have me thrown in jail on trumped–up charges.

I turned to face him. “Tyler, you realize making false statements will only add to your sentence, right? Is that what you want? To spend more years locked up, while your daughter and your ex–wife struggle alone?”

His face darkened. “Don’t talk about them. We’re divorced–I don’t give a fuck what happens to them.”

“Really? Because this morning, I watched your ex–wife get harassed by what looked like a landlord demanding rent money. She was terrified, Tyler.”

He remained silent, but I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Jenny’s about to lose the café. The landlord’s threatening to terminate her lease. They’ll be