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Oliver's hand found the button, raising the partition once more. His voice was low, tinged with disapproval. "You shouldn't hug Vlad."
I turned to face him, confusion furrowing my brow. "Why not?"
"He's working," Oliver explained, his tone clipped.
Frustration bubbled up inside me. "I'm grateful for what he did," I countered.
Oliver's jaw tightened. "That's his job."
"It doesn't hurt to show gratitude," I insisted, my voice rising slightly.
Oliver's expression softened marginally. "I agree, and I have."
Curiosity piqued, I leaned in. "How?"
"I had a discussion with him after I got out of rehab," Oliver explained, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "I also raised his salary. He's had to deal with a lot since what happened."
I nodded, a wave of emotion washing over me. "I'm sure. We all have." My thoughts drifted to another hero of that harrowing day. "I owe Brenda my life. I owe her your life. We would both have died if she wasn't there at the right time." A sudden realization struck me. "That reminds me, have you heard from Jonah?"
Oliver's face darkened, his gaze turning distant. "Nothing. I've given up looking for him. When he's ready, he'll surface." He paused, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. "For all I know, Antonio is after him."
I felt a shiver of fear and I bit my lip. Oliver must have known what I was thinking because he put his arm around me and pulled me against his side.
Oliver's voice was low and steady as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the passing cityscape outside the limo's tinted windows. "He isn't coming after you. We're watching him, and so are the police. Antonio needs to keep his nose clean because there's suspicion that he had a part in what happened on Fox Island."
I turned to face him, disbelief etched across my features. "How could they not believe he had anything to do with it?"
Oliver's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his skin. "Because he wasn't anywhere near St. Croix when it happened. In fact, he was visiting his mother in Italy at the time." He paused, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "Vlad's tech guy found information to suggest he was there two weeks before."
I shook my head, frustration building in my chest. "That doesn't mean he didn't have a hand in the planning."
"I'm sure he did," Oliver conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. "But there's nothing to suggest it. The police can't accuse him of something without evidence."
"Sneaky fuck," I spat, anger bubbling up inside me. "I hate them all for what they've done to my family." My voice softened as I continued, "I know my mother is affected by the news about who killed my father. It was so many years ago, but she loved him." I reached out, gripping Oliver's arm. "That's why you can't say anything about the connection to the Carusos. I don't want anyone to know, especially her and my brothers."
Oliver's eyes met mine, a flicker of guilt passing through them. "I've already spoken to Anders."
I recoiled as if I'd been slapped, my mouth falling open in shock. "Are you out of your mind?" I hissed. "He doesn't keep anything from my mother. If she knows, my brothers will too."
Oliver raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't tell him everything. Only that there was a business connection to your father."
My eyes narrowed, suspicion gnawing at me. "But why did you have to say anything at all?"
"Anders is a smart man," Oliver explained, his tone measured. "He questioned me, and I wasn't going to lie."
"But you did lie," I accused, my voice rising.
Oliver shook his head firmly. "I didn't. I just never told him everything. He didn't ask me point-blank what the business connection was." He reached out, gently taking my hand in his. "For all I know, he can figure it out on his own. Give your stepfather some credit."
As the limo glided through the city streets, I found myself grappling with a mixture of fear, anger, and uncertainty. The weight of secrets – both kept and revealed – hung heavy between us, a reminder of the delicate balance we were trying to maintain in the aftermath of tragedy.
I couldn't shake the feeling that despite our best efforts, the truth would eventually come to light, bringing with it consequences we might not be prepared to face.
I looked at Oliver, my voice hesitant as I broached the subject that had been weighing on my mind. "What are we going to do with Fox Island?"
His eyes met mine, a flicker of understanding passing between us. "Do you want me to sell it?" he asked softly. "I'm not sure I want to go there again."
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I don't either. The good memories have been washed away by the bad ones." My voice cracked slightly as I continued, "I'll never be able to go there and feel safe. I'm sorry. I know you put a lot of work into it."
