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I could only imagine what would happen if he did.
I’d spend the rest of my life in jail on a murder rap before I let that sack of shit hurt my baby.
A timer went off and I flew across the kitchen to silence it before Henry could storm back in to rage about the irritating noise. The chicken roasting in the oven was nearly done, and I lost myself in preparing the side dishes and getting everything laid out on the table. Henry was rarely home for dinner, but I always made sure to prepare enough food so that if he was, he would have one less thing to complain about.
Twenty minutes later, we all sat down like a normal family around the dining room table. Henry listened as Jackson amused him with stories of the tree frog we’d found in the backyard earlier in the afternoon and the new action figure his friend, Scotty, had brought to school for show and tell.
When dinner was over, Henry went to his study, and I went to work cleaning up and getting Jackson ready for bed. As night fell, I snuggled with Jackson in his bed as we read one of his favorite stories together.
When the story was over, Jackson rolled over and let me hold him while we sang the goodnight song from one of his favorite cartoons. Most nights, I ended up falling asleep beside him, finding no point in going down the hall to the guest bedroom I’d been sleeping in for the past two years since Henry and I had stopped sleeping together. But my mind was still reeling over the events of the day and the nagging thoughts made it impossible to relax.
When Jackson’s breathing dropped into a steady pattern, I eased to the edge of the bed, and sneaked from the room on my tiptoes. “Sweet dreams, my baby,” I whispered at the doorway before pulling the door closed.
The house was eerily quiet and I glanced down the hall at my room, debating whether I should go lock myself away for the night or go downstairs and see if I could engage Henry in a conversation.
If I managed to get him talking, odds were it would turn into an argument, but there was a sliver of a chance that if I played it just right, I might be able to pick up some clues to determine how much he knew about my visits to Matt’s office over the past few months.
I squared my shoulders and went down the back staircase that let off in the family room. As I neared the bottom of the steps, Henry’s voice carried and I realized he was still in his study, but at some point he must have opened the door or forgot to shut it completely after entering because his words were crystal clear.
“—up putting the kid to bed.” Henry sighed. “Yes, I understand this is last minute, but if she goes through with this, I’ll risk losing half of everything.”
All of the air in my lungs evaporated and I doubled over, trying desperately to suck back in a breath.
He knew.
“Make it look like an accident. Jensen, I’m counting on you to figure this out. You took care of that whore Talia—”
Stars floated behind my closed eyes as I struggled for air. Cold claws of terror had a stranglehold around my windpipe.
Took care of Talia? As far as I knew, Talia was alive and well, probably tucked away in some luxury hotel suite, eating room service and spending her days lounging by the pool. But that wasn’t what it sounded like…was she dead? Had Henry killed her?
Was I next?
It was too much to comprehend. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
“Make it work. You’re running out of time. If you can’t do it, then find someone who can.”
A slam jolted me back to life and I ran on unsteady legs in the opposite direction, gasping for air by the time I reached the kitchen. I slipped on the marble floor in my sock-clad feet and swung into the pantry at the sound of footsteps behind me. I closed the door and sagged against it, panting to get as much air back into my lungs as possible.
Another loud thump sounded and I cringed, not sure the origin of the sound. “Melissa?”
I smoothed back my hair, took an even breath, and opened the door. “Yes?” I said, smiling sweetly at Henry.
He scowled back. “What are you doing in there?”
“Making Jackson’s lunch for tomorrow.” With the hand hidden from his sight by the door, I reached out and grasped for the basket of snacks, pulling a pouch of fruit snacks out. I held it up for Henry to see and hoped to God he couldn’t hear my heart slamming against my chest.
“All right, whatever. I need your help with something.”
