“We need to talk,” he whispered so quietly I could barely hear him over the sound of the water.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried, drying my hands on a towel.

He took a step closer and leaned toward my ear:

“As long as your son isn’t here… take the hammer and break the tile behind the toilet in the bathroom. No one must know.”

I laughed involuntarily — I thought the old man had lost his mind.

“Why ruin the renovation? We’re selling this house soon…”

But he interrupted me sharply, squeezing my fingers with his bony hands:

“Your husband is deceiving you. The truth is there. ”

There was something in his eyes that wouldn