“Leviana, what are you hiding?” Adrian’s voice cut sharply through the quiet of the luxurious living room. He held an envelope in his hand — he’d found it in a hidden drawer in Leviana’s bedroom — and now he slammed it onto the glass table.

Leviana, perched on the sofa with a glass of red wine, turned slowly. Her calm was a mask; for a split second a flicker of panic crossed her eyes before she smoothed it away. “Adrian,” she said with a faint smile, “rifling through a woman’s private things isn’t very gentlemanly.”

Adrian stepped forward and tipped the envelope. Photographs and documents slid out — medical records,...