The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

I studied her. It was unlike Natalie to not gush about her life, especially in regards to a guy she was into. She normally gave anyone in earshot every little boring detail. I looked to Mom for an answer and she shrugged.

“Don’t ask me,” she said. “We haven’t gotten any more than that out of her either.”

I switched gears some. “So this stalker guy, that’s pretty scary! Is it someone you know?”

Natalie groaned. “Oh my god. How many times do I have to say that was a misunderstanding?”

Her phone dinged and she picked it up. She smiled at the screen. “Looks like I have another date tonight!”

Natalie grabbed her bowl of fruit and walked out of the kitchen. I looked at my parents, bewildered.

Mom ignored me and stood to clear the breakfast dishes. Dad had turned to his newspaper.

“So…” I started, unsure what to even ask to get the information I was searching for.

“We don’t know any more than you do,” Dad said, his eyes glued to his

paper.

Inwardly sighed. I went to the fridge to find something to eat, and my eyes landed on a police report newspaper clipping that was on the outside of it. I removed the magnet and pulled it off, my eyes quickly scanning it.

“What’s this?” I asked. NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.

“It’s the police report from the night the cops were called on Nat’s stalker,” Mom said, being surprisingly forthcoming for once.

I looked down at the clipping. There was hardly any Information, it was just a basic 911 report they put in all the papers:

“Police were called about a domestic disturbance at Sunset Studios around 8:30 pm on Friday, April 12th. One person was arrested and taken in for questioning.

April 12th why did that date sound so familiar?

After Natalie left for her date, I snuck into her room. I knew I was acting very irrationally about the whole thing, but I needed concrete evidence that Logan and Natalie were not together sol could actually get some sleep over the weekend. No matter how many times I told myself the odds of it being her were so slim, my anxiety just refused to listen.

I opened her laptop. A photo of a smiling Natalie greeted me when the screen lit up. Of course she has herself as her background photo, I rolled my eyes.

I clicked the mousepad, hoping maybe I could get in easily. But nope. Password protected.

“I need to learn how to hack into computers,” I muttered to myself. I typed “ImABigBitch” into the password space and pushed enter. “Incorrect password” popped on the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I closed the laptop and opened her desk drawers one by one. They were pretty sparsely filled. A couple call sheets from her films stuffed into one, some headehe.

In another. I shook my head at those. I did find a nice leather–bound journal in one drawer, but when I flipped through the pages I found it to be empty.

“Such a waste,” I said, returning the journal where I found it.

I looked through her vanity next. Those drawers were filled to the brim with make–up and hair products.

I looked through her dresser, her closet, under the bed and then under the mattress. I came up frustratingly empty each time.

After I overturned her whole room, I went back to mine and flopped backwards onto the bed. Why was this bothering me so much? Even if Natalie were the mystery wife, would it affect me any?

My gut said yes.

I pulled the newspaper clipping from the fridge out of my jeans pocket and read over it again. April 12th…

I pulled out my phone and opened my work calendar. I scrolled back to April 12th, which was just a few weeks prior. It had a small red line across the date, indicating something important. I clicked on it and gasped.

April 12th was the night of Logan’s welcome party.

The night I bailed him out of jail,