Renee Moretti
I sat against the headboard with the comforter gathered over my legs, staring at the bathroom door.
The shower had stopped running several minutes ago, but my thoughts hadn’t.
Prodigy’s voice kept replaying in my head.
The confidence he had when he spoke about finding his father had been giving me a panic attack that I’d forced myself to hide during dinner, until we left Denise and Marcus’s house.
The bathroom door opened, and Sal stepped into the bedroom with a white towel wrapped low around his waist. His dark hair was still damp, pushed away from his face, and drops of water clung to the thick hair covering his chest.
Even after all these years, he was still a beautiful man.
Usually, I would’ve appreciated the view. But that night, I barely noticed.
Sal took one look at me, chuckled, and shook his head. “You’re still stressing over this?”
I frowned. “Nothing about this is funny.”
“I didn’t say it was.” The corner of his mouth lifted with sympathy. “I’m only saying we talked about this the entire ride home. I thought I calmed you down.”
“You talked, and I continued to worry quietly,” I murmured.
Sal chuckled softly as he crossed the room. “Renee, relax.”
“I can’t relax.”
He stopped near the foot of the bed. “Renzo hasn’t been found.”
“Yet.”
His expression tightened slightly.
“What if that private detective finds him?” I pressed. “Prodigy isn’t letting this go, Sal. You heard him. He’s determined, and he has enough money to keep searching until he finds something!” I pushed the comforter away and crawled towards the edge of the bed. “Denise cannot find out the truth.”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” The certainty in his voice made me look up at him. Sal rested one hand on my foot, comfortingly. “Renzo has been gone for eighteen years. He knows what returning would cost.”
“What if he stops caring? You don’t know what living alone all these years has done to him. What if he gets tired of hiding? What if he decides Prodigy deserves answers?”
Sal’s hand tightened around my foot. “Love, please trust me.”
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but fear was still choking me. “Prodigy has resources now. He has people who can search records and follow money.” I opened my eyes again. “We need to find out who this private investigator is.”
Sal stared at me for seconds that felt like minutes. Then he asked, “And do what?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Pay him to stop.”
“With what? More money than Prodigy is paying him? Because I’m sure we don’t have enough to make that worth the P.I.’s while. So, what are we supposed to do?”
The answer left my mouth before I realized what I was saying. “Kill him.”
Sal’s expression turned into shock, then disbelief, while I simply looked back at him.
For one stunned second, he said nothing. Then he burst into shocked laughter. “We aren’t murderers, Renee!”
I groaned and covered my face with both hands. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, Sal.” I dropped my hands and looked at him again. “But I would rather be a murderer than have Denise find out.”
Sal crouched in front of me. Then he lovingly cupped my face. “I made sure Renzo would never return. Everything is going to be fine.”
I nodded slowly, forcing myself to accept the reassurance because I had nothing else. “Good.”
Sal stood, but I caught his wrist before he could move away. “Denise can never find out the truth. She’d never forgive me.”