Page 90 of Secret Seduction

I sent him a picture of Leysa weeks ago, when I told him that she was coming after my family because we wouldn’t allow her to traffic women through our port, and he assured me that he would have his men keep an eye out for her.

“We won’t know for sure until a DNA test is run, but it looks like it could be her.”

“And how the hell do we test the DNA of a dead person who’s never lived in the US?” I ask.

“Shit,” he says, clearly not having thought that one through. “We need something with her DNA.”

I think back to when Kaleb visited her mom in Colombia, trying to see if she might know where we could find her eldest daughter, only to learn that Leysa had allowed her to believe she’d been dead this entire time. Shit, according to Kaleb, the woman even keeps a shrine of her things in her old room.

And then it hits me. “We can get her things from Colombia. Something has to contain her DNA. My guy said her mom has kept her room as is.”

“Perfect,” Hughe says. “Come by and see the picture of her. I really think it’s her. The photo you gave me damn near matches the woman who died in the fire. But if we can get a DNA sample, we can run it to confirm.”

“I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later, I’m standing in the DA’s office, looking at a picture of the same woman I saw in the basement. She’s got burns all over her face, but there’s no denying she resembles the woman in the photograph.

I don’t know who did this—and based on the text I got, it’s someone who wants me to be indebted to them—but for now, I’m going to take it as a win.

Because, ding-dong, that bitch is finally dead.

30

Vanessa

Leysa is dead.

It’s finally over.

I’m safe.

Yet I’ve never felt more unsettled.

It’s been four weeks since Leysa was burned to death, and Matteo asked us to give it a few weeks before we went about our normal life, wanting to make sure that the threat was really gone.

During which time, I’ve worked with Lorenzo and his amazing team to set up my online boutique and started getting orders. Thanksgiving came and went, and we enjoyed the holiday with our friends and family. My mother is in jail, awaiting trial, and the prosecutor believes he has enough circumstantial evidence to put her away.

Nicole found out that her father had left everything to her in his will, but because he owed so much money and the house burned down, the only thing remaining was his life insurance policy, which she offered to give me half of and I declined. Not only do I not want a dime of that man’s money, but she can use it to expand her coffee shop and help pay for her wedding since James proposed on Thanksgiving.

Today is our first day out of the house, and we’re taking Leo to the zoo. But because Lorenzo is still cautious, he had his men secure the area before we arrived, and he’s warned me several will be following us around.

It’s the end of November in Florida and in the low eighties—the perfect temperature for being outdoors.

“Out!” Leo exclaims the moment he sees the wide-open space.

“Can he get out?” I ask Lorenzo.

“Yeah.” He glances around, clearly on high alert. “We just need to keep him close.”

I unbuckle the seat belt in his stroller and pull him out and set him on his feet. In the past month, he’s moved up from walking to running, and keeping up with him is a full-time job.

“Mama!” Leo yells, running over to the lion exhibit. “Roarrrr!” he growls, smashing his face against the glass in an attempt to get closer.

Lorenzo and I both crack up at how adorable he is, and then we pull our phones out at the same time to snap pictures.

We walk through the exhibits, and Leo is excited to see every animal, making the noises each one makes. We ride the carousel three times, and then we eat lunch at the restaurant. The food is shitty, but the memories we make are ones I’ll never forget.

“We should do a zoo theme for his birthday,” I say to Lorenzo as we eat ice cream on the bench while we watch Leo play in the little splash pad they have in the middle of the zoo.