Chapter 23
593words
Olivia paused, looking up at me with an unreadable expression. "You don't have to do that."
"I want you to be comfortable," I explained. "You need space to heal."
She nodded, accepting this. "Thank you."
After settling her in the bedroom with her medications and a glass of water, I returned to the living room to make some calls. When I checked on Olivia an hour later, she was asleep, her face peaceful in the soft afternoon light. I stood watching her for a moment, struck by how vulnerable she looked—and how precious. The thought of how close I'd come to losing her forever made my chest tighten painfully.
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Evening fell, bringing with it a gentle rain that pattered against the windows. I had prepared a simple dinner, when Olivia emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in the oversized cardigan I'd left for her.
"You cooked," she observed, surprise evident in her voice.
"Don't sound so shocked," I said with a small smile. "I've learned a few things in the past eight months."
"Like cooking?" She eased herself onto one of the kitchen stools, wincing slightly.
"Like how empty a house feels when you're the only one in it," I replied honestly. "How quiet meals are without conversation. How pointless it seems to cook just for yourself."
Her eyes softened. "Nathan..."
"Sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... I've missed you, Olivia. More than I can express."
She was quiet for a moment, watching me ladle soup into bowls. "I've missed you too," she finally admitted. "Even when I was angry, even when I thought you had betrayed me with Rebecca... I still missed you."
The simple confession meant more to me than she could know. It was the first crack in the wall she had built between us.
We ate in companionable silence for a while, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. It reminded me of Sunday mornings in our old apartment, before we bought the penthouse, when we would linger over coffee and the newspaper, content just to be in each other's presence.
"Tell me what you've discovered," Olivia said eventually. "About my father, about Victor's involvement."
I hesitated, not wanting to burden her with more pain. But she deserved the truth.
"Your father was investigating environmental concerns at the Westlake development," I began. "Based on the files you had hidden, he found dangerous levels of contaminants in the soil and groundwater. The day before he died, he was scheduled to meet with my father to discuss halting the project."
"But he never made it to that meeting," Olivia said quietly.
"No. He was found in his car, dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. Ruled a suicide."
"It wasn't suicide," she said with certainty. "My father would never have done that. He was excited about his findings, about stopping a potential public health disaster. He had purpose."
"I believe you," I said. "And I think my father arranged his death to prevent the Westlake project from being shut down. The development made him millions, established Carter Developments as a major player in Boston real estate."
Olivia's hands trembled slightly as she set down her spoon. "And Lily's parents? How do they connect?"
"They were developing land downstream from Westlake. If they had conducted their own environmental tests, they might have discovered the contamination had spread. It would have triggered an investigation, possibly traced back to the original cover-up."
