Prodigy Moretti
I was less than five minutes from the Cartier estate when my phone vibrated against the center console.
The message came from Darius Cole, the private investigator I had hired to find my father:
The address was old. No sign of Renzo. Sending pictures now.
Three photographs appeared beneath the message. The house looked abandoned. Plywood covered one of the windows, weeds had swallowed most of the front yard, and the mailbox leaned toward the street as if nobody had touched it in years.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Every lead to find my father started with hope and ended with another empty building, disconnected number, or person who claimed they had never heard Renzo’s name.
Another message appeared:
This is going to be a long process. You have to remain patient. I did uncover evidence that Renzo may have lived under another name after leaving Chicago. The lead is weak, but it’s the first genuine movement we’ve had in months. I’ll keep digging.
People always told you to be patient when they weren’t the ones missing a father for eighteen years.
I had become obsessed with finding Renzo.
Every unknown number made me wonder if it was him.
Every man who looked remotely Italian and close to his age got a second glance.
I had spent years pretending his disappearance didn’t bother me, then reached a point where not knowing had begun controlling too much of my life.
I had never believed Renzo was dead because there had never been a body, a death certificate, or any evidence that something violent had happened to him.
He had simply disappeared. None of the leads had been strong enough to locate him, but they were enough to convince me that my father hadn’t died.
He had chosen, or been forced, to become somebody else.
I trusted Darius because he had spent twenty years investigating men who disappeared on purpose, including people who changed names, crossed state lines, and built entire lives beneath false identities.
More importantly, he never fed me hope just to keep collecting money.
When a lead was weak, he said so. When he found nothing, he didn’t provide false progress.
That honesty made him the first investigator I believed wasn’t treating my father’s disappearance like an endless paycheck.
Renzo wasn’t the only person occupying my thoughts, though.
Arielle Banks stayed there too. She had loved me for years while I treated commitment like something I could postpone until I felt ready.
She waited while I entertained other women, avoided conversations about our future, and expected her to remain available whenever I decided to act right.
When she finally left, she told me she loved me but couldn’t keep living as an option. I let her walk away because my pride convinced me she would return.
She always had before. But this time, she blocked me on every social media platform and changed her number. She had removed every easy route I could use to reach her, making it clear that she hadn’t left to teach me a lesson. She had left for real.
Now, I suspected Arielle had been the love of my life, and my pride had cost me the only woman who had ever understood every part of me without demanding that I become someone else.
Between searching for a father who might not want to be found and missing a woman who no longer wanted me, I had spent too much time wondering where people went after they decided I wasn’t worth staying for.
The Cartier estate came into view ahead of me.
I locked my phone and forced both Renzo and Arielle into the back of my mind. Neither situation could be fixed on that drive, and I had business to handle.
The guards opened the front gates before I reached the security station.
The Street Kings and Cartiers had done enough business together that nobody needed to call the house and announce me anymore.
Wise, Vega, and I had been to the estate plenty of times.
We knew the family, the children knew us, and the guards knew our vehicles.
I parked near the front entrance and climbed out with the bookbag slung over one shoulder. It held the money we owed the Cartiers from our most recent transaction. I could’ve sent somebody else to deliver it, but neither side trusted large amounts of cash in careless hands.
The front door was unlocked, so I let myself inside. I barely made it across the foyer before Sire and Truth came running out of the den.
“Prodigy!” Sire reached me first, but Truth wasn’t far behind. I bent down, lifted one with each arm, and carried them toward the den while they screamed and laughed beside my ears.
“Put me higher!” Truth demanded.
“You already too heavy.”
“I’m not heavy!”
“You weigh at least a hundred pounds.”
Truth laughed harder. “No, I don’t!”
Sire grabbed the front of my shirt. “Throw us on the couch.”
“Leave Prodigy alone, y’all,” Aria laughed from behind them.
I lowered them to the floor as Aria approached the doorway with two toys tucked beneath one arm. She looked like she had been trying to clean behind children who could destroy a room faster than she restored it.
“Hey,” she greeted.
I hugged her quickly and kissed her cheek. “What’s up, sis?”
“The guys are in the office.”
I adjusted the bookbag on my shoulder and turned toward the hallway.
That was when I noticed the woman sitting alone at the kitchen island.
She wore a simple spaghetti strapped sundress, and even from where I stood, grief seemed to surround her.
Her smooth brown skin looked brilliant beneath the kitchen lights, and long champagne-blonde hair fell around her face in thick, feathered layers that reached well past her shoulders.
She had full lips, high cheekbones, and large dark eyes framed by long lashes, but the sadness inside them dimmed what should’ve been an effortless beauty.
A glass of water sat in front of her beside a plate she hadn’t touched.
Aria followed my gaze.
“That’s Novi,” she said quietly. “Kash’s girl.”
I knew Kash because we were associated with the same crew. I had bumped shoulders with him at a few events. He always seemed like a solid nigga, and it was fucked up what had happened to him.
Aria’s expression softened. “She’s going through it.
I can’t even imagine losing Legend like that.
” Her eyes briefly moved toward the den, where the children had already returned to arguing over something.
“She lost the man she thought she was going to spend her life with. I talked to her for as long as these kids would allow me. She’s a sweet girl. You can tell she really loved Kash.”
Before I could respond, a baby began wailing from the playpen inside the den.
Aria sighed. “And there goes Major.”
She touched my arm before hurrying away. I started toward the office but slowed when I reached the kitchen.
Novi remained, staring at nothing. She was beautiful in a soft, understated way. No dramatic makeup or effort to draw attention. Her features were delicate, and her hair framed a face that probably looked even more fascinating when she smiled.
It wasn’t her beauty that kept my attention, though. It was the pain in her expression. She looked like she had been hollowed out and left to keep functioning anyway.
“Excuse me,” I called as I entered the kitchen.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
“I’m Prodigy.”
“Novi,” she barely replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I knew Kash. He was a good dude.”
Her lips pressed together. “Thank you.” The words barely left her mouth, though.
Tears gathered in her eyes, and she looked down before they could fall.
I didn’t force more conversation. Grief didn’t need strangers asking questions or delivering speeches about how everything happened for a reason.
I gave her a respectful nod and continued toward the office.
The door was partially open, and I heard voices before reaching it.
“We need somewhere secure to place her,” Icon said.
“She can’t go back to her house,” Saint replied. “If they believe Kash left evidence, that’ll be the first place they watch.”
“What about one of our properties?” Reek asked.
“Too many people know what belongs to us,” Legend answered.
I reached the doorway, and the conversation stopped. Icon sat behind the desk while Legend stood near the windows. Saint, Big A, and Reek occupied the other chairs around the room.
“Don’t stop plotting on my account,” I said with a grin.
I removed the bag from my shoulder and handed it to him. Then I went around the room, shaking up with each one of them.
Icon looked toward the doorway behind me, then back at me, and something changed in his expression, as if something had dawned on him. “Don’t you own a few apartment buildings?” he asked me.
“Yeah. And a few houses? Why?”
He leaned back. “We need somewhere to stash Novi.”
I glanced toward the hallway. “Why?”
Icon explained what Kash had reported before his death and the message in the burner phone Novi had brought them.
“She can’t go home,” Icon finished. “And putting her in one of our places might lead them directly to her.”
I considered it, then shook my head. “I wouldn’t put her in any of my complexes. Too many tenants. Too many people moving in and out. I have a house in a gated community near the suburbs. The security system covers the entire property, and nobody lives there right now.”
Saint nodded slowly. “How many entrances?”
“Front, garage, and a back door leading to the patio. All alarmed with cameras in and outside of the property.”
“We’ll provide the security,” Legend said.
“I’ll give you the access codes and add whoever you assign to the system.”
Icon nodded. “Good shit. Thanks, bro.”