As soon as the screen lit up, a series of rapid vibrations shook the device.

One after another, notifications began to flood the screen.

Nathan stared at the display, his eyebrows drawing together in a hard, straight line.

“What is it?” I asked, a sudden dread rising in my throat.

He didn’t answer immediately.

He tapped the screen, opening a link that had just been sent to his personal email.

The screen glowed brightly in the dim interior of the car, reflecting in the glass of his watch.

Nathan slowly turned the screen toward me.

The glare hurt my eyes in the gray shadows of the concrete garage.

A local Nashville news blog, *The Tennessee Ledger*, had a headline in bold black letters.

“Billionaire’s Bride or Paid Actor? Nathan Cole’s Shocking Custody Conspiracy.”

My breath caught in my chest.

I reached out and took the phone from his steady hand.

My fingers were cold against the warm glass.

The article featured a photo of Nathan and me standing outside the hotel restaurant the previous night.