Logan
The file sat open on the table in front of me.
I had been staring at it for nearly twenty minutes, and every new page made my mood worse.
Chase Ryder.
The name alone was enough to irritate me.
His photograph was clipped to the first page. A clean professional headshot. Dark hair. Serious eyes. That same controlled expression he wore whenever cameras were around.
Perfect Chase.
Golden boy Chase.
The man who had spent his entire life standing exactly one step ahead of me.
I turned the page.
The investigator had done a thorough job. School records. Financial reports. Medical history. Former teammates. Old relationships. Charity work. Family connections.
Everything.
And somehow, there was nothing useful.
“No affairs,” I muttered.
I flipped another page.
No women claiming h
