Chapter 4 - THE NIGHT SOMEONE BROKE INTO MY HOME
Olivia refused to let Gabriel take over her life.
That was the first argument they had.
It happened in the conference room while Vanessa spoke with Detective Elena Ruiz, who had arrived after Olivia contacted the police.
Gabriel stood beside the window.
“You shouldn't return to your apartment tonight.”
Olivia crossed her arms.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“I can arrange somewhere secure.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Olivia.”
“I appreciate the concern, but I am not moving into a stranger's mansion because my ex-husband sent a threatening text.”
Gabriel's expression didn't change.
“I'm not suggesting you move into my mansion.”
“Good.”
“I have several properties with professional security.”
She stared.
“That is somehow worse.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Possibly.”
Olivia sighed.
“I spent six years being told where I could go, whom I could see, and what I was allowed to do. I'm not starting that again.”
Something shifted in Gabriel's eyes.
He nodded.
“Understood.”
She blinked.
“That's it?”
“Yes.”
“You're not going to argue?”
“I can disagree without making the decision for you.”
Olivia stared at him.
It was such a simple sentence.
Yet it struck somewhere deep inside her.
Richard had never understood that distinction.
Gabriel continued.
“Would you be willing to discuss security options with Detective Ruiz?”
Olivia considered it.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He stepped aside.
The conversation ended.
No threats.
No punishment.
No icy silence.
Just a boundary accepted.
Olivia wasn't sure what to do with that.
By late afternoon, Detective Ruiz had arranged for increased patrols near Olivia's building and advised her to stay elsewhere temporarily while the threats were assessed.
Olivia called her younger sister, Claire Bennett.
Claire lived in Evanston with her husband and two children.
She answered immediately.
“Liv?”
“Can I stay with you for a few nights?”
“Of course. What's wrong?”
Olivia hesitated.
“It's Richard.”
Claire's voice changed.
“What did he do?”
“It's complicated.”
“I'm getting my car.”
“No. Stay home. I'll come to you.”
Gabriel offered to have a driver take her.
Olivia almost refused.
Then she thought about the photograph of her building.
She accepted.
At six that evening, she returned to her apartment with an officer to collect clothes and medication.
The hallway smelled of fresh paint.
Someone had left a bouquet of white lilies outside her door.
Olivia stopped.
She hated lilies.
Richard knew that.
He'd sent them after every terrible argument.
Never roses.
Never flowers she liked.
Lilies.
Because he said they made a woman look sophisticated.
The card contained three words.
Miss me yet?
Olivia handed it to the officer.
Inside, the apartment appeared untouched.
She packed quickly.
Jeans.
Sweaters.
A laptop.
The framed photograph of her parents.
Then she entered her bedroom.
Her jewelry box was open.
Olivia froze.
She was certain she'd closed it that morning.
The officer noticed.
“Ma'am?”
Olivia looked toward the closet.
A small brass key lay on her dresser.
It hadn't been there before.
Attached was a paper tag.
314\.
Her stomach tightened.
“What is that?” the officer asked.
“I don't know.”
Then she noticed something else.
A photograph had been placed beside the key.
It showed her father standing outside an old warehouse.
Thomas Bennett had died when Olivia was fifteen.
She hadn't seen this photograph in seventeen years.
On the back, someone had written:
Your father knew what the Morettis were.
Olivia stared at the words.
The room seemed to tilt.
The officer called for backup.
Olivia stepped into the hallway.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Ask Gabriel what happened in 2009.
She swallowed.
Another message appeared.
Ask him why your father never came home.
Olivia's hands began shaking.
She called Gabriel.
He answered immediately.
“Olivia?”
“Did you know my father?”
Silence.
A terrible, heavy silence.
Then Gabriel said, “What happened?”
“Answer me.”
“Olivia—”
“Did you know Thomas Bennett?”
His voice lowered.
“Yes.”
She pressed a hand against the wall.
“How?”
Gabriel was quiet.
Then he said, “Your father worked for my family.”
Olivia couldn't breathe.
“My father was an accountant.”
“He was.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
Another silence.
Then Gabriel spoke.
“Seventeen years ago, your father discovered something he wasn't supposed to find.”
Olivia stared at the photograph in her hand.
“What?”
Gabriel's answer came slowly.
“Evidence that someone inside my father's organization was stealing millions.”
Her throat tightened.
“And?”
“And three days after he told my father, he died.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
The old police report flashed through her mind.
Black ice.
A curve.
A single-car accident.
She had believed it for seventeen years.
“Gabriel,” she whispered, “did your family kill my father?”
He didn't answer immediately.
And that hesitation hurt more than any lie.
Finally, he said, “I don't know.”
Olivia ended the call.
She stood in the hallway while the officer spoke into his radio.
For the first time since the gala, she regretted asking Gabriel Moretti to kiss her forehead.
May you like
Because she had wanted thirty seconds of protection from her past.
Instead, she had walked directly into it.
