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Interesting.
Then again, Deuce didn’t say they graduated together,only that they attended. I keep the fact that she didn’t graduate in my back pocket as I move on to the next open tab.
Quickly, I type in “Tiffani Ledbetter” followed by all major social media platforms. I roll my eyes when I discover her Instagram account, the profile picture one of her laughing, veneers on display, mouth open, head tipped back. No one gets their photo taken organically while they’re laughing, but to be cracking up by yourself and then take a photo? No fucking way. Not to mention, hysterical laughter isn’t pretty. And this is a gorgeous photo.
I take my anger out on my keyboard, slamming my fingers against the keys as I move to the tab with her Facebook page open.
The profile picture is the same, but the background image is of a law firm, a proudly displayed banner of her thriving, impressive career as a lawyer.
You can’t get into law school with an undergraduate degree, though, so I’m immediately skeptical. Opening another tab on Google, I type in the law firm, and when the page loads, I click the Meet Us tab. Scrolling through, I don’t find Tiffani, but then again, maybe they’re quick to draw on updating their website?
One more open tab and I’m typing in the Wayback Machine, entering in the law firm website. I wait for the results to generate, and when it does, the site gives me a variety of snapshots throughout the last few years. I click one from the middle of last year, when she likely would’ve been working there. According to her employment history on her LinkedIn, which I pulled up while the WayBackMachine was loading, she didn’t leave that firm until a few months back, so in theory, she should be on the site.
Whenthe snapshot from last year finally loads, I click the same tab, and wait as the old listing of lawyers populates.
There is no Tiffani Ledbetter.
Backing out, I end up spending a full hour going through every single snapshot of the legal firm site over the last year, and there isn’t one single time that I find her name.
So she’s lied about graduating college maybe, and she’s definitely lied about where she worked.
How could she possibly be telling the truth about coming here? I don’t believe her and I don’t trust her.
Back on her Instagram, I sift through her photos, finding that two years ago she was in a relationship with a man named Mark Leary, a businessman with very deep pockets and a ton of connections.
I think the deep pockets is what she’s after.
Slowly, the pieces fall into place.
Her sights are on Gray for his money. I cannot be convinced otherwise.
From her Facebook account, I save photos she’s posted of her office from an album titled “Where A Law Firm Partner Works”. Her office is huge, the entire back wall made of floor-to-ceiling windows and a grand desk with a massive, tufted leather chair tucked into it.
Squinting, I analyze the four photos posted of the office space but find no personal identifiers. There’s no nameplate on her desk. No family photos. No ugly orchid in a stupid pot sitting in the window. Nothing that makes the office personal.
Opening up TinEye, I put the first general image of theoffice into the uploader, and hit submit. A moment later, the generation is complete.
A smile twists my lips as I read.
Over 538 results! Searched over 65.7 billion images in 3.0 seconds.
Scrolling down, I find that Tiffani Ledbetter’s office is actually a staged office, used by marketing companies, stock photo sites, and phonies just like Tiffani all across the world.
Where a law firm partner works, my ass.
Hudson is a good man through and through. He’ll figure out that Tiffani is…not for him.
He has to. He will not fall for some lying money-grubbing phony over his soulmate. No way.
I’ll make sure of it.
eight
I CAN’T PERV ON THE BABYSITTER. I’M NOT THAT GUY.
Hudson
I had no plans on spending my Friday night anywhere but on the couch, my boy in my arms, the newest Disney movie on the TV, cocoa in mugs, popcorn all over as we relax. I’d sink into the couch, letting my aching body rest after a long week of work, and Bear would melt into me, the only time he truly lets me cuddle him.
