Shonee's POV

The following day...

"So you brush the edges with the egg like this..." I guided Mirasol's tiny hands as she coated the egg wash mixture along the edges of the dough, then we covered it up with the second layer of pasta, made sure we got all the air bubbles out and proceeded to cut them into individual segments. "Tadaa! You've made your first batch of ravioli."

"Yay!" She cheered. "I can't wait to eat them."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, that's gonna have to wait cuz Gerta still has to cook them."

"And you have about two dozen more of those to make," Gerta added as she stirred a huge pot of sauce on the stove.

"Don't worry," Mirasol grinned. "We'll get them done in no time, right Shonee?"

"Oh with your fantastic skills, we definitely will." I ruffled her hair.

And that's exactly what we did. In the next passing minutes, Mirasol, Gerta and I talked about our favourite Italian dishes as we worked on the ravioli, making sure we had enough for the family's lunch.

Halfway into our task, Vincent walked into the kitchen, pushing his arm into his jacket and adjusting it over his frame. "Morning, everyone."

"Morning boss," Gerta responded.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, princess." He put a quick kiss on her forehead, before turning to me with a teasing smirk. "Hey, you."

"Hey." My lips found his in a brief, but sweet kiss that made my heart flutter.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" Vincent questioned the moment we broke apart. "I was supposed to be at the office at eight, but now it's five minutes to noon."

"You can't blame me for that, you were exhausted." I wiped the leftover flour in my hands on my apron and stood up. "And after last night, it was totally understandable."

"Oh yeah?" The corner of his lips curved up. "I guess that means you enjoyed it?"

"Mmm, yeah." I shot a look over my shoulder, making sure Mirasol and Gerta couldn't hear what I was about to say. Thankfully they were both wrapped up in their activities.

So I drew closer to Vincent with the excuse of straightening up his tie, and whispered, "It was worth the sleepless hours, especially the 69."

"Good." His smirk widened, and his gaze dipped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. "Cuz we're doing it again tonight."

"Can't wait." I pushed myself up in an attempt to kiss him, but an uproar from the living room had us all turning in that direction.

"Great, what's Nancy up to now?" Vincent mumbled and headed over. Quickly, I pulled my apron off and followed him. Gerta and Mirasol remained in the kitchen.

We walked into the living room, surprised to find Detective Wiley standing with another police officer in the middle of the room. Mrs. Denver stood in front of Nancy like she was protecting her from the cops. And not far off, Ben sat on a sea blue blanket, playing with his toys.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Nancy immediately turned. "Vincent, good." She walked up to him. "Tell them to leave because they have no reason to arrest me."

"For the last time, we're not arresting you, Mrs. Beckham," Detective Wiley sighed. "We just need to ask you a few questions at the station."

"Why?" Vincent stepped past Nancy. "What does she have to do with this?"

Detective Wiley's eyes met mine before he turned to Vincent. "Yesterday, we received an anonymous tip that helped us unearth some... facts we're hoping your wife can help us clarify."

"What facts?" Vincent probed further, eyebrows pulling into a suspicious frown.

"Unfortunately, I can't divulge—"

"Well you better do," Mrs. Denver rudely cut in. "Because I will not allow you to take my daughter out of this house! She is the mother of two growing children, she doesn't need to be involved in this sleazy murder case!"

"Believe me, ma'am, I wouldn't be here if your daughter wasn't a glaring lead in this case right now," the detective sniped. Mrs. Denver's interference in his work was probably getting on his nerves.

Vincent put his hands up. "Wait, hold on. What do you mean by she's a glaring lead?"

"Well, Mr. Beckham..." Detective Wiley slid his hands into his coat pockets. "It seems you don't know your wife or your personal assistant as well as you think you do."

That statement made Vincent's shoulders tense up. "What are you talking about?"

"Just like Sam Reynolds, Michael Percy is also an alias; a fake identity," he paused. "Your personal assistant's real name is Johnson Stewart."

At the mention of that name, my mouth just dropped open. "What?" I moved closer, unable to believe what I'd just heard. But Detective Wiley wasn't even done yet.

"And he is the man your wife was having an affair with prior to her accident in 2022."

"Oh my god..." Mrs. Denver clutched her chest.

Every eye in the living room turned to Nancy who stood right behind her mother, her face as white as porcelain. "That-that is not true!" She yelled though it came with a slight tremble.

Detective Wiley turned back to Vincent and continued, "We have phone records, screenshots of chats, and histories of bank transactions, dating back to the second quarter of 2022 when your wife was still alive. Some of the accounts that sent Johnson money bore her name and your name as well."

"That doesn't mean we were having an affair!" Nancy shot out in her defence. "I sent him money from my account and a few times with Vincent's, but it didn't mean anything. Johnson and I were just friends!"

"Great, then you can tell us more about this 'friendship' at the station." Detective Wiley gave a nod to the officer and he approached Nancy. But she lifted her hand to stop him.

"I can walk to the car myself!" She remarked in a tone dripping with pure venom as she walked past the elderly detective, shooting him one of her signature nasty glares.

"I'm coming too." Mrs. Denver, without a hint of hesitation, marched after Nancy.

At the sight of both his mother and grandmother leaving, Ben abandoned his toys and started padding after them. "Mama!" His arms were outstretched.

"Hold on, sweetie, you can't go after them." I quickly scooped him up, but it didn't stop him from releasing an avalanche of tears as he realized they were leaving him behind. "It's ok, hun, it's ok." I bounced him up and down in my arms, trying to get him to stop crying.

My head turned back to Vincent. He still stood with the detective, a clueless expression covering every inch of his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I..." He released a nervous chuckle. "I can't believe this."

Detective Wiley's eyebrows pinched into a frown of concern. "Mr. Beckham, I am so sorry you had to find out this way. I was hoping to call you later, after questioning your wife because aside from all this, there's something else you need to know."

"Great!" Vincent laughed again, though it sounded so forced. "As if this wasn't shocking enough, there's more." He pushed a hand into his hair.

Detective Wiley laid a comforting hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Look, I understand you need more time to process all this. So I'm gonna take my leave, but I will give you a call, right after the interrogation is done."

"No." Vincent vehemently shook his head. "I appreciate the concern, detective. But I think it's better if I hear about Nancy and...Johnson's..." he pronounced the name with so much disdain, "...affair, right from the horse's own mouth."

The detective took one look at him, admiring his composure and determination in this matter, then nodded. "Sure, come with me."

Detective Wiley walked past me towards the exit, followed closely by Vincent. He paused to lay a dainty kiss on my forehead and to wipe away some of Ben's tears. There was no point though, because he kept churning out some more, and it made Vincent chuckle. "I'll be back soon, ok. Love you."

"Love you too." I leaned over to kiss him hard on the lips before letting him go. The front door slammed shut, and I turned to the sobbing toddler in my arms. "You, my friend, have one heck of a mother."

******

A few moments later...

I scooped up the last bit of the wheat-flavoured Cerelac and tried to get Ben to eat by mimicking the famous aeroplane trick.

The chubby, little kid was smiling and giggling now, but it took a lot out of me to get him to stop crying, and it was mostly because I didn't know what to do. Despite living in the same house for over three months, this was actually my first time taking care of Ben. Nancy never, ever, let her son near me. The only people she allowed to touch him were Mrs. Denver and Vincent. Even Mirasol, his own sister, wasn't allowed to play with him.

I stole a glance at the wall clock in the kitchen. It was a few minutes to three p.m. Vincent and the others had been gone for almost two hours now. Propping my chin up with my hand, I wondered how the interrogation was going.

It was pretty obvious from the get-go that Nancy was keeping a lot of secrets buried in her closet, but this one was pretty huge. I knew she had something with Michael, but I thought it was after her accident, not before it. Then there was also the Johnson-Stewart case.

My phone buzzed with a notification and I pulled it out to see a response from Jordin. After Vincent and co. had left her, I sent her a voice message, detailing everything that had happened here, including the Johnson Stewart part. She was so shocked that all she could type was: wtf!

I opened up her chat, and just as I was about to type out a message, a call came through.

'Private number' glared in bold, legible characters on the screen and it sent a wave of apprehension down my spine. Nevertheless, I inhaled deeply and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Shonee Coleman."

My eyebrows dipped low. The voice didn't sound familiar at all, probably because it was shrouded in one of those technical thingies bad guys use in movies to make their voices undetectable. Meaning whoever was on the line now, didn't want me to know who he was.

"I take the silence means you're trying to figure out who this is," he chuckled in a dark and mechanic tone.

"Sure, care to make it easier for me?" I replied, hoping he wouldn't sense the brewing tension in my voice.

Whoever it was laughed again. "Unfortunately, not. I'm just here to deliver a simple message."

My curiosity increased tenfold. "Which is?"

"Stop looking into Michael's past." His voice was clear, void of any humour. "Seriously, if you know what's best for you, you'll listen and do as I say."

"Or else what? You'll kill me?" I scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah, right. Sorry pal, but that silly threat isn't gonna work on me."

"Hmph." He paused. "I'm not gonna kill you, Shonee. That'll be too easy. I'll kill Mirasol, instead."

Ice flooded my veins. "You'd deliberately kill a six-year-old kid? Are you crazy?"

"You care about her, right?" he continued, unperturbed. "You made that very clear when she went missing. So if I wanted to hit you where it hurts, she'll definitely be my first target."

My heart raced in my chest. "Who are you? And why are you doing all this?"

But the dickhead completely ignored me and resounded his warning. "Stop looking into Michael's past, Shonee. You won't be warned a second time."

"Now, wait a min—"

The line went dead.

*******