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Because for me, it has always been her, and my heart would naturally choose to stand by her side.
“Take Riley home,” I throw at Liam. “Not now, Mother,” I throw at my mother as she tries to come close to me, the tail of her emerald dress in one hand and her pronounced ruby stoned pouch in the other. “Go home, please,” I spare her a quick look, seeing an older version of Riley in her before looking away and grabbing Olivia by the upper arm, and taking her without stopping to the far end of the hall.
“You are hurting m-”
“Shut your mouth, Olivia,” I spin her to stand before me.
“I know what this looks like,” she shakes her head, fumbling with a jotter and pen in her hands, “I… I couldn’t have…” She keeps stuttering, fighting to get the right words out, but I’m seeing through her bullshit, or I’m trying to stay fucking rational.
“I told you to behave, Olivia, did I not?” I get closer now, and she backs away, but a chair behind her stops her from moving farther away.
She whimpers and nods.
She had to fucking mess this up for me.
“Ronan,” Liam comes up behind me, and I stiffen because I hadn’t noticed any other movement aside from Olivia’s heaving chest, blinking wet lashes, and trembling lips.
“What?”
“Cesare called,” he leans closer, “I will take Riley and your mother home,” he swallows, and I detest the sound of it because I know what will come after that. “It was the cake,” he draws back.
I can’t describe what the confirmation does to my mood, but I know it’s a conflicting feeling. I want to rip Olivia apart for what she has done, but I also want to protect her because so fucking far, I still will not allow myself to accept that Olivia Delgado is capable of murder. Not my Olivia.
I’m not sure who that makes me.
But it doesn’t look good on the outside.
Chapter Five
OLIVIA
Nothing is guaranteed.
The booking that was going to make me famous in this city is the one that will be my downfall.
I have the documents Barbara signed, stating there were no allergies involved.
But this case is different.
It has been confirmed.
The cake was poisoned.
I squeeze the jotter, trembling as I try to think of all the many ways this could have happened.
Poison?
I would never. I could never.
And while I have many other problems to focus on, I cannot help but search for support, in Ronan’s eyes.
I watch as Liam disappears, busying my mind with the unnecessary detail of his brown hair in a man’s bun and wondering how long it took for him to grow it to that length.
He has a beard and is a little leaner than Ronan, but they are the same height.
When did this all happen? How did Liam get this tall?
I nod at him as he struts away with Riley, who seems confused. He takes her out of the hall, and Ronan’s mother follows with a group of men in suits filing out after them as security details.
