A confrontation Jessie never expected…
Her arrival cast a poignant shadow. Even before she spoke, I could feel the grief she carried, a weight that seemed to settle in the space around her. Her dark brown hair was down, and she wore a black cocktail dress paired with high heels. It wasn’t her usual style; Olivia was known for wearing lighter shades. Today, she stood out—no one else wore black. It was a gloomy look for a warm, sunny afternoon and spoke volumes without a single word.
Taking her place beside Conrad, she shot a fleeting glance in my direction and whispered something to him. Whatever she said, it made him nod subtly.
I couldn’t help watching her. My curiosity twisted into something I couldn’t quite name—sympathy, maybe, or fascination. Olivia had always been a larger-than-life figure, someone who seemed untouchable in her beauty and confidence. She’d been the woman in the glossy magazines. But here, in the Baltimore family’s backyard, she was just Olivia. No runway, no spotlight, no air of perfection—only a grieving widow trying to hold herself together.
As lunch unfolded, everyone was absorbed in conversations around the table, including Olivia. I excused myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I felt a cold, bony hand clasp my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I was pulled aside, finding myself face to face with Olivia.
“Did you think a change in hair colour would make you unrecognisable?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Excuse me?” I pulled my arm out of her grip and stepped back.
“I know Zack was blackmailing my husband!” Her words sliced through the air. Restrained anger burned in her eyes as if she were daring me to deny it.
“What are you talking about?” I stared at her. “Zack… blackmailing? Are you serious?”
Zack would never have stooped to something so manipulative. The very notion was out of character. And yet, the accusation made me wonder what Mark could have done to invite blackmail. He had always struck me as professional—careful. Whatever Olivia thought she knew felt less like truth and more like grief creating a story, searching for someone to blame.
“Don’t play dumb!” Olivia’s voice cracked. “I know he had something to do with my husband’s death.” She burst into tears.
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