THIRTY THREE

GRAYSON'S POV

I woke up to a text message from Stewart, my lawyer: "Call me when you get this." He sent it around 3 AM.

Groaning, I stretched out my arms, feeling the effects of the previous night's drinking. My hair was a mess, and I probably had morning breath laced with the lingering taste of alcohol. Yesterday, I saw Sylvia with that fucker Raymond. I rubbed my eyes and picked up my phone to call Stewart.

"Hey Stewart, you found something?" I asked.

"Good morning, sir," he replied. "Raymond’s parents are Richard and Deborah. They divorced when he was 15. He got into modeling at 18. He has a few charges, but just DUIs—nothing too outrageous. He recently moved to New York after being signed to a modeling agency."

"Oh, so he's a model," I said, my irritation evident.

"Yes, sir. A struggling one, but it seems he just got his big break," Stewart continued.

"What can you tell me about the agency that signed him?" I asked.

"MJ Modeling Agency," he replied. "They filed for bankruptcy tw