I shook my head, “I told y—”
“Have a lovely evening, wife.” The sarcasm cut through the tension. “And can you shut the window? It’s cold, you know?”
I froze for a moment before I sprinted to the window. It was wide open. I slammed it shut. My heart threatened to leap out of my chest. I pressed myself against the wall, my chest heaving up and down.
“Good. See you tomorrow,” he said, and the abrupt beep of the line cut off followed. The phone slid from my hand, landing at my feet. I shoved the curtains aside and caught sight of a car pulling away from the curb.
It wasn’t Mr. Torres’ brother. It was the man I claimed as my husband and stole from him. And Cole being our son? Mr. Torres’s brother told him that, too?
He found me, and he knew my name.
Chapter Six
Inna Grace
Getting caught meant I nolonger had the luxury of disappearing. If he found us once, he would find us again, and next time he probably wouldn’t bother with a phone call. So I showed up.
At first, I thought about leaving Cole behind and going alone. It sounded safer in theory. But leaving him in that apartment felt like setting a bait and hoping nothing came for it. So Cole came with me.
The stranger’s briefcase no longer held what I stole. A chunk of it was already gone, swallowed by rent, food, and survival. I carried the rest along with a promise I wasn’t sure he would buy. I planned to tell him I’d pay the difference in installments, like people who still had options.
By the time we arrived, night had crept in. The beach restaurant wasn’t busy. The air carried salt and dampness, mixing with the smell of grilled fish. Waves rolled in intervals, a quiet reminder that the world outside this moment kept moving.
My steps slowed at the entrance as I took it in. The stretch ofempty tables and neatly arranged chairs looked like they were waiting for a crowd that never came. Near the back, an old man sat alone, busy clearing a glass of drink in front of him. He didn’t look up, but I still wondered if he was the one I was to meet.
I crouched and adjusted Cole’s hoodie, pulling it forward just enough to shadow his face. My fingers lingered a second longer, grounding myself before I straightened.
We walked toward an empty table, my eyes flicking once more to the man at the back. If he were the one, he wouldn’t need help to recognize me. A man who could find where we lived would already have every detail, including my face.
We sat at the table, though hesitation slipped through. My gaze moved over everything at once—the doors and the windows. I read the room the way people learned when they didn’t feel safe, and I felt exposed seated by the window.
“Let’s sit there.” I reached for Cole and guided him to another table tucked further inside, away from the glass window.
We sat again, but I remained alert.
“Guess what?” Cole’s voice cut through the noise in my head. I looked at him and nodded for him to go on.
“I had this dream that you and I were in a nice place. Somewhere we could do anything we wanted.”
I let out a quiet scoff. “I hate nice dreams. They never end well.”
He groaned. “Your theory about dreams is wrong. Every time something good is about to happen, I dream about it first.”
The restaurant bell jingled before I could respond, and my heart jumped. I turned towards the door. A man walked in, laughing easily, a woman close behind him. They took a table, and the tension in my chest eased on realizing it was not him.
Just as I believed we had a few quiet minutes, the door opened again. A man in a black suit, tailored close enough to show the work beneath it, walked in. He carried himself as if he owned thespace, with no need to prove it. Every step was measured.
His eyes found me, then flicked to Cole. He didn’t look anywhere else. He walked straight to our table, and the closer he got, the louder my pulse became.
It was him.
He stopped in front of us. “Inna Grace.”
Hearing him say my name sent a shiver down my spine. He stood there like the answer didn’t matter. He already knew.
“Yes,” I managed, my voice thinner than I liked.
“Come with me.”
