Chapter 18
591words
"Why would Rebecca lie about something like that?" she asked finally.
"I think she's being manipulated," I said carefully. "By my father."
Olivia closed her eyes, exhaustion evident in every line of her face. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're divorced. You're free to be with whoever you want, including my sister."
"That's not what I want," I said quietly. "It never was."
I wanted to say more—to tell her that I'd never stopped loving her, that the divorce papers I'd signed felt like signing away a piece of my soul, that every day without her had been a hollow exercise in going through the motions of living. But before I could find the words, my phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number:
Sullivan transfer in progress. Final warning.
"I have to go," I said, standing abruptly. "But I'm posting security outside your door. Don't trust anyone, Olivia. Not the hospital staff, not my father, not even Rebecca."
"What's going on?" she asked, alarm breaking through her emotional detachment.
"They're moving Lily Sullivan now. I think your accident, your hemorrhage—they were warnings to keep you away from her case." I headed for the door. "I'm going to stop the transfer."
"Nathan, wait!" Olivia called after me. "My father's file—in my apartment, hidden in the air vent in the bedroom. Get it before they do."
I turned back, confused. "What file? What does your father have to do with this?"
"Everything," she said grimly. "He didn't commit suicide nine years ago. He was murdered. And I think your father was involved."
The accusation should have angered me, but instead, a cold certainty settled in my gut. It made a terrible kind of sense—the timing of her father's death, the Westlake development that had made my father millions, the pattern of silencing anyone who asked too many questions.
"I'll get the file," I promised. "And Olivia... I'm going to fix this. All of it."
She looked at me then, really looked at me, for the first time since our separation. "Be careful, Nathan. If your father is behind this..."
The unfinished warning hung between us. I nodded, understanding what she couldn't bring herself to say: that my own father might be willing to kill his son to protect his secrets.
"I will," I assured her. "Try to rest. I'll be back as soon as I can."
As I left her room, I arranged for security to guard her door. No one—especially not my father—would get past them.
Outside the hospital, the evening air was cool against my face. I loosened my tie, feeling like I could finally breathe again after hours in the sterile hospital environment. For too long, I'd been going through the motions, but now I felt alive again. I was fighting for something that mattered—for Olivia, for the chance to right the wrongs that had torn us apart.
As I drove, I thought about what the doctor had told me—that Olivia would never be able to have children. The news would devastate her when the shock wore off. She'd always wanted a family. I remembered her face lighting up as she described the three children she imagined us having, the names she'd been considering since she was a teenager.
