Chapter 250

"That's a lie!" Renata hissed. "When did I ever tell you to kill anyone? You'd better tell me the truth about what happened, or you can forget about seeing another cent!"

Her accusation clearly angered the man on the other end. "You sent me a message telling us to kill them! What else is there to say? You think I don't know the difference between kidnapping and murder?" he snarled.

To be frank, if he hadn't killed them, he could have taken the twenty million, and even if he got caught, he'd still have a life to come back to. Now, with three bodies on their hands, they couldn't even spend the money they had without looking over their shoulders.

Renata's heart sank. She frantically replayed their conversations in her mind. Was it possible she had been unclear? That they had misunderstood her instructions? She had found these men herself and had been their sole point of contact. No one else knew. She couldn't think of any other explanation.

"Fine," she said, her voice tight. "Just lay low. And don't contact me unless it's absolutely necessary!"

She ended the call abruptly. The agreed-upon price had been twenty million. She had already paid ten million in two installments, holding back the other ten. Clearly, the money had been enough to motivate them to commit murder. But now, Renata was living in a constant state of anxiety. Santino's warning echoed in her mind: those men could not be caught, or it would all be over.

After taking a few moments to compose herself, Renata got out of the car and walked into the market. She had no idea that back at the villa, Santino was also making a call.

"Trace the location of this number," he said coolly into the phone. "Find them. Then, find a way to leak the information to Reuben."

He hung up and turned his attention to the infant sleeping peacefully in his carriage. A signature smile spread across his face as he reached out and gently stroked the baby's cheek. The child stirred, giggling, and his tiny hand reached up to grasp Santino's finger.

Latisha spent the entire day hunched over her desk, writing. Dr. Harmon had told her to write down everything she could remember, to read it over each day in the hopes of jogging her memory. So, she started from the very beginning from het, childhood, from the day she first arrived at the Lambert family estate, chronicling every detail, every memory, big and small.

When she finally looked up from the page, she saw that she had already filled a third of the notebook. She

stared at the words she had written.

She hadn't realized just to moch

had happened between her and Clifford. The notebook was almost full, yet she hadn't even finished writing about their first year

together.

A thought began to form in her mind: perhaps she wasn't sick at all. How else could

she remember events from so long ago with such clarity?

She remembered Clifford bringing

her a lollipop shaped like a little pink dog. It had been a sun-drenched afternoon. He was just a boy then, dressed in a crisp white shirt with a backpack slung over one shoulder, one hand casually tucked in his pocket. He was backlit by the sun, his smile impossibly gentle.

She remembered the feeling of his hand holding hers, his fingers long and warm. She remembered the sight of his back as he walked ahead of her, so tall and protective. She had to tilt her head back to watch as the wind rustled through his hair.

She remembered him taking her to the playground. She was sitting at the top of a slide, and he was at the bottom, his arms outstretched, inviting her to leap into his embrace.

She also remembered the words of an older woman who had been watching them. "Is this your sister?"

The boy had lifted her from the ground and smiled at the woman. "Yes, my sister." Latisha had snuggled into his arms, burying her face in his collar. She could still recall the scent so clearly-the smell of sunshine.

As the memories washed over her, she raised a hand to her cheek and felt the wet, cool trail of a tear.