Chapter 38 38
Lucas kept talking, his voice softer now, almost hopeful.
“When all this settles,” he said, eyes fixed on her face, “we should go somewhere quiet. Just us. Maybe the coast… or Europe. No phones. No work. A proper honeymoon.”
He smiled, the kind that once made her heart flutter without effort.
Olivia smiled back.
Carefully. Perfectly.
“That sounds lovely,” she said, even though her chest felt tight. “I’ve actually got a meeting later—with some new brand investors. I can’t miss it.”
He nodded, reaching for her hand again. “Always working,” he teased. “Don’t stay too long.”
“I won’t.”
She stood, smoothing her dress, leaning down to place a light kiss on his cheek. Her lips lingered for half a second—out of habit, not feeling.
“Rest,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
Lucas watched her leave, a faint unease settling in his chest that he couldn’t explain.
Olivia didn’t look back.
She walked through the corridors with her head held high, nodded at staff, stepped outside into the bright afternoon air. The moment she reached her car, the smile slipped.
She got in, closed the door, and sat there in silence.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.
A honeymoon.
Butterfly tattoos.
A woman with familiar eyes.
Olivia started the engine, pulling out of the driveway smoothly.
But as the Brooks mansion disappeared in her rearview mirror, one thought echoed relentlessly in her mind—
Olivia didn’t drive far.
She pulled into a quiet, upscale café tucked away from the main road.
She parked, checked her reflection in the mirror, and then made the call.
“Are you there?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” the man replied. “Same place.”
She hung up.
Minutes later, she spotted him seated at the far corner—dark suit,
She slid into the chair opposite him without greeting.
“I need you to look into something,” she said, reaching into her bag.
She placed the folded paper on the table.
The letter.
He didn’t rush. He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the lines with focus. His face didn’t change, not even when he reached the last sentence.
Silence stretched between them.
He folded it back neatly and set it down.
“Hm,” he murmured.
Olivia’s fingers clenched in her lap. “It’s his handwriting.”
“Yes,” the man said calmly. “I can see that.”
“And it’s not meant for me.”
Another pause.
He finally lifted his gaze to her, sharp and assessing. “Miss Olivia,” he said evenly, “we’ll get back to you.”
Her jaw tightened. “When?”
“Soon,” he replied, already standing. “Very soon.”
He took the letter, slipped it into a secure folder, and walked away without another word.
Olivia arrived home just before sunset.
A maid hurried toward her the moment she stepped inside.
“Miss Olivia,” she said respectfully, lowering her voice, “your mother had another episode this afternoon. The nurse stabilized her, but she’s been asking for you.”
Olivia slipped off her heels, handing them over without even slowing.
“Mm,” she responded absentmindedly. “Did she take her medication?”
“Yes, miss. On time.”
“Good.” Olivia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder. “Make sure the nurse doesn’t miss the night dose.”
The maid hesitated. “She’s… very emotional today.”
Olivia’s lips curved into a faint, careless smile. “She always is.”
She walked past without another word.
Upstairs, the master bedroom door was half-open.
Her mother lay on the bed, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of her chest.
Her gaze snapped to Olivia the second she entered.
“You’re late,” her mother said bitterly.
Olivia checked her phone. “I had a long day.”
“You always do,” the woman sneered. “Did you see Lucas? Is the engagement secure?”
Olivia paused.
Then she smiled—slowly.
“Yes,” she said lightly. “Everything’s perfect.”
Her mother studied her face, suspicious. “You don’t sound convinced.”
Olivia walked to the mirror instead of the bed, removing her earrings. “That’s because you mistake love for security. Lucas gives me what I need.”
“And what is that?” her mother demanded.
She glanced at the woman on the bed—once ruthless, now trapped in her own body.
“I’ll have dinner sent up,” Olivia said coolly. “Try not to stress yourself. It’s bad for your condition.”
She turned and walked out before her mother could respond.
The door closed softly behind her.
And Olivia didn’t look back.
The room fell silent after Olivia left.
The machines hummed softly.
Slowly—painfully—the woman on the bed lifted her trembling hand toward the nightstand. Her fingers brushed against a small silver pendant resting there, worn thin by time.
She struggled, breath shallow, until her fingers finally closed around it.
With effort, she opened it.
Inside was a faded photograph.
A little girl with bright, familiar eyes and a shy smile.
Her lips trembled.
“Oh, Blair…” she whispered, her voice breaking, fragile and full of regret. “Where did the years go?”
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the pillow.
“Where are you, my precious darling?” she murmured weakly, clutching the pendant to her chest as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the past.
The machines kept humming.
Olivia turned the shower on full blast.
Hot water slammed down her skin, steam filling the glass enclosure, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside her chest.
Her hands pressed against the tiles.
Lucas’s hands.
The thought of them touching someone else—holding another woman the way he held her—made something inside her snap.
She laughed.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
A sharp, unhinged sound that echoed off the walls.
“Those hands…” she muttered, eyes wild. “I could burn those hands that dared to touch his.”
Her laughter broke again, breathlessly. Water streamed down her face, mixing with tears.
She couldn’t stand still.
Couldn’t think straight.
She reached out of the shower, grabbed her phone with wet fingers, and dialed.
It rang once.
“Mr. Duke,” she said the second he answered, her voice tight. “Talk.”
There was a brief pause on the line.
“Miss Olivia,” he replied evenly. “I was just about to contact you.”
Her heart skipped. “About the letter?”
“Yes. And about Mr. Brooks,” Duke continued. “We ran a deeper timeline.”
Olivia leaned her forehead against the glass.
“Five years ago,” Duke said, voice calm but precise, “Mr. Lucas Brooks went missing on Valentine’s night.”
Her breath stopped.
“Missing?” she repeated.
“For several hours,” he added. “No security footage. No verified witnesses. His phone was off-grid.”
Valentine’s night.
Duke continued, almost thoughtfully, “It also happens to be his birthday.”
Silence roared in Olivia’s ears.
Her fingers curled slowly.
“So,” she whispered, a chill sliding down her spine despite the heat, “what must have happened?”