Page 108 of Ruined By Protection
It's not a question, not really. She's connecting the dots herself.
"We believe so," I confirm. "And if we're right, that means?—"
"That I married a murderer," she finishes, her voice hollow.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as she processes this revelation. Her body trembles against mine.
"I still can't say I want him dead," she whispers against my chest. "But I understand now why it has to happen."
I pull back to look at her face, needing her to understand. "I won't ask you to be part of that, Hazel. You don't need that on your conscience."
"I'm already part of it. The moment I walked into his life I became part of this story. I just didn't know it."
Hazel
I wake with a start and find the space beside me is empty, the sheets cool to my touch. Matteo is gone.
Last night rushes back to me—the shower, our conversation, the horrible truth about Melissa Winters. I press my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the images forming in my mind. A pregnant woman. Missing. Presumed dead.
And Elliott... my husband. The man I shared a bed with for two years.
"No," I whisper to the empty room. "There has to be another explanation."
I sit up, wrapping the sheet around me as I try to make sense of it all. Elliott is controlling, manipulative, abusive—I know this firsthand. But murderer? Could he really have killed a woman carrying his child?
I think about the Elliott I first met—charming, attentive, seemingly perfect. The way he spoke to my parents, how he promised to take care of me. Was it all just a mask hiding something much darker?
He couldn't.
I remember the woman in the grocery store now—Melissa's mother. The desperation in her eyes as she approached me by the produce section. "My daughter was with your husband just before you," she'd said. "Now she's disappeared."
Elliott had explained it away so easily when I brought it up. "Just another woman who couldn't handle rejection," he'd said with that silky smile. And I believed him.
God, I believed him.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I call, pulling the sheet higher around my chest.
Evelyn steps inside, closing the door gently behind her. She's dressed in jeans and a soft blue sweater, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
"Hey," she says, her eyes taking in my disheveled state. "Matteo said you might need some company. He had to meet with Damiano."
The sight of her—so normal, so straightforward—makes my throat lump with emotion. I've known her my whole life, this cousin who's more like a sister. She's seen me through everything and now here she is again, standing by me through the worst moment of my life.
I feel tears threatening but I swallow them back. I've cried enough.
"You okay?" she asks, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Not really," I admit.
She reaches for my hand. "Want to talk about it?"
I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. Where do I even start?
"Have you heard about Melissa Winters?" I ask.
Evelyn's brow furrows. "Who?"
