The question filled the office without expectation of an answer.
If she wasn’t married, then why keep another man’s surname? Women rarely change their names without reason. Marriage, divorce, family history—one of those explanations usually sat somewhere behind the choice.
But the file didn’t show a marriage. And she wasn’t wearing a ring. I noticed that the moment she walked into this office earlier today. Five years hadn’t erased my ability to notice the smallest details about her. Her hands had rested briefly against the back of the chair while we spoke, her fingers tightening when she grew angry, and there had been nothing on that left hand.
No ring.
No faint pale line where a ring might have once been.
Nothing.
Which meant one of two things.
Either she had been married and divorced since leaving Washington… Or Rhodes wasn’t a husband’s name at all.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the desk while my fingers pressed against my temples.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I reached for my phone. There was only one person I trusted to help me untangle the pieces. The line rang twice before Elias answered.
“I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re calling me in the middle of my workday,” Elias said.
“What time is it there?”
“Just after noon.” A pause followed. “Which is exactly why I expected you to be back in New York by now, not still in London.”
I said nothing.
“Hayden,” he said, his voice sharpening, “what the fuck are you still doing there?”
“I had something to handle.”
Elias exhaled slowly.
“You called me in the middle of my workday, Hayden, so get to the point. What do you want?”
“I need information.”
A brief pause followed.
“About?”
“Someone.”
He already sounded tired of this conversation.
“Name.”
“Edwina Rhodes.”
Silence. It stretched until I almost pulled the phone away from my ear. Then Elias spoke again, his voice slower now.
“Rhodes?”
“Yes.”
“Rhodes or Carter?”
