Chapter b207 /b

bChapter 207 /b

OLIVIA’S POV

“Ma’am, we’ve done the DNA test, and the results are out.” One of the forensic guys said to me, his voice careful, as thought he balready /bsensed bthe /bweight of what those results might carry.

I felt the towel Damien had draped across my shoulders slide slightly as I moved. It was warm against my skin, but my body felt coldb, /bcolder than the weather could ever make me. My heart thudded, echoing louder than the forensic guy’s words, yet my face remainedposed.

I rose, adjusting the towel, and followed the man down the narrow corridor towards the smallb where the test had been processed. Damien walked just behind me, silent and observant. I could feel his stare, heavy with silent questions, but I didn’t meet his eyes. There wasn’t room for bdoubt /bbright /bbnow /bnot when I was so close to what I needed.

Inside the room, fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The faint smell of chemicals and stale air wrapped around us, making it feel almost ustrophobic. One of the forensic team members, a man in histe forties with lines on his face that spoke of long years staring into evidence bno /bbone /belse wanted to see, picked up a tablet the moment he noticed our arrival.

He stepped closer, his expression neutral, yet I could see curiosity lurking in his eyes. With a swipe of his hand, he turned the tablet screen toward me.

And there it was.

The names, ck letters against a white background, burned into my vision the second I saw them.

Sam Grayson.

Jennifer Grayson.

My adoptive parents. The ones I had so carefully tucked into my past, locked away like a decaying secret I never wanted to look at again.

“Do you know these people, ma’am?” The forensic guy’s voice jolted me out of my

trance.

“Yes, I do,” I answered, forcing my voice to quiver just enough to sound believable. “They were the people who took care of me when I was little. They showed me all the love andpassion.”

It was a lie, of course–a carefully practiced one. Even Damien knew it, and the quick, confused flicker in his gaze cut into me like a de. He had seen too much, knew too much. But even if he doubted me at this moment, he wouldn’t betray me–not yet.

I needed this performance. To paint myself as the woman who had only ever lovedb, /bonly ever lost, and now had to watch the corpses of her past rise up

from the darkness.

“Since you were able to identify these people, we might need your help in finding the person who did this,i” /ione of the officers said, his tone shifting subtly, bing more official. “It doesn’t matter if it has been years since this happened. Everyone involved in this will get justice.”

“When was thest time you spoke to them?” his partner asked, a pen already poised over a small notepad.

“I haven’t spoken to them in over five years now,” I replied softly, lowering my gaze like someone burdened by guilt. “I left bthe /bcountry andb… /bI wasn’t able to keep in touch.”

The officers exchanged a quick look before another question came. “Are they your biological parents?”

“No,” I said. “Foster parents.”

“And do you know anyone who might have done this to them?”

That was the question I had been waiting for. My heart beat louder, but outwardly I remained still. I let my bchest /bbrise /band bfall/bb, /bblet /bbmy /bbbreath /bbcatch/bb, /bband /bthen forced tears to brim in my eyes. It had to look real–it had to feel real.

b1/3 /b

b09:53 /bbWed/bb, /bb30 /bbJul /bGD))”

I nodded slowly, my fingers tightening on the edge of the towel as though clinging to thest bit of strength I had left.

“Okay… and who might this person be?” the officer pressed gently, his voice almost sympathetic now.

b“/bbYes/bb,/bb” /bI murmured, letting the tears slide freely now. “That is the main reason why I wanted to find out if these were my foster parents

“Okay, tell us,” the officer urged, leaning in. “Who do you think might have done this?”

I drew in a shaky breath. The silence around us grew so thick it was almost suffocating. I could feel Damien’s eyes burning into the side of my face, band /bbi /bswallowed, steadying my voice for the final act.

Then I said it. “Adrian Westwood.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, toxic. I watched the reaction ripple through the room like a stone thrown into still water. The officersbi‘ /i/beyes widened bin /bsurprise, one of them unconsciously took a step back, his lips parting as if to say something but no words came out. Another’s hand froze, still holding the pen midair.

“I’m sorry ma’am, did you say Adrian Westwood? Like Adrian Westwood?” one iof /ithe officers asked, leaning forward as if he hadn’t heard me right. His partner’s eyebrows shot up too, and for a brief second, silence settled over the room like a thick nket.

“I know what I’m saying, officers,” I replied firmly, trying to steady my breath. “I wouldn’t just use an innocent man. I’m sure of this.”

Their eyes met, an unspoken exchange passing between them. Doubt. Skepticism. I could practically hear it in the way they shifted their bweight/b, the way one scratched his cheek while the other’s gaze flickered back to me, searching for cracks in my im.

Of course they didn’t believe me–notpletely. Adrian Westwood wasn’t just some ordinary suspect. To the world, he was a brilliant billionaireb, /ba man gracing magazine covers and winning awards. using him of murder felt like using the sun of refusing to rise.

Lucky for me, I wasn’ting here empty–handed. Or at least, I hoped I wasn’t.

“You were a witness when this happened?” the officer on the left asked, tapping his pen lightly against his notepad.

“No,” I answered quietly, shaking my head.

“So how do you know he has a hand in this?” the other officer pressed, his voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“Because… I was once married to him. And as his wife, there were secrets I learned that no one else did.” I said

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damien’s reaction–his eyes widening in shock, the question forming on his lips but never making it out. He had known I had a past, but this past? Even he couldn’t hide how startled he was.

The officers‘ gazes dropped, slowly scanning me from head to toe. My clothes were a mess–my shirt was wrinkled from when I’d climbed out of the canoe earlier, and my casual slippers were stained with flecks of mud. I could almost read their minds: How could a woman who looked like this have ever been married to a man like Adrian Westwood?

That thought nearly made me roll my eyes, but I forced myself to stay still. They didn’t know the battles I’d fought, the masks I’d worn, or the ces I’d been dragged to against my will. Appearances were thest thing that mattered in my world but unfortunately, they still mattered in theirs.

“And do you have any proof?” the first officer finally asked, his tone careful but blunt. “You don’t expect us to just go knocking on Adrian Westwood’s door without something concrete. That could make us lose our jobs.”

bspin /bba /bfairy btale/b? bBut /bI swallowed it down and kept my voice steady. “Yes. There’s written evidence in his study–at least, there bwas /bbthe /bbst /bbtime /bI bsaw /bit. He bkept /bbit /bbhidden /bbehind a small shelf near hisptopi. /iIn that note, he wrote how he was going to destroy my foster parents bfor /bbwhat /bbthey /bbdid /bbto /bbhis /bbmother/b.

A small spark of frustration red in my chest. Did they really think I woulde all this way, dragging my past into bthe /bbopen /b

They exchanged another look, longer this time. Their shoulders seemed to tense–slightly, as though the bweight /bof bmy /bbusation /bbhad /bbfinally /bbnded/bb. /bbOne /bof them let out a small sigh, and they both stepped aside to whisper something to each other. I couldn’t hear themb, /bbut I bcould /bbsee /bbthe /bbseriousness /b

etched onto their faces.

b09:53 /bbWed/bb, /bb30 /bJul GO

I held my breath, silently counting the seconds. Behind me, Damien shifted his stance, as if ready to speak up for bme /bif bthey /bturned me away

Then, after what felt like an eternity, they turned back to face me.

“Since this case has been reopened, we’re going to his house with a search warrant,” the first officer said, his voice firm but still carrying a trace of – warning. “But just hope everything you said here is true. If it turns out you’re lying, you’re going to have a problem with the police.”