Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
T he more I shuffled through the paperwork, the angrier I became. Everything Emmett had told his sister was precisely what I thought—a lie. Their home was never in foreclosure; he sold it for 3.2 million dollars, along with every other asset they'd left us.
According to all the bank records, none of this made any sense because there was no money. Unless Emmett was hiding it somewhere Walker couldn't find, they were broke after being given millions of dollars in cash and assets.
How could they spend all that money, and on what? Olivia didn't have anything to show for it, and according to the papers, neither did Emmett.
I gripped the edge of my desk, knuckles white. Tomorrow I would confront Emmett and get answers. But now came the harder decision: tell Olivia or wait? I didn't like the idea of lying or hiding things from her, but the thought of seeing her heartbroken over her brother's betrayal made my stomach turn.
The only option I could see was to tell her nothing right now and see what Emmett had to say tomorrow.
Some truths were better served with answers attached.
It was already after seven. I'd been going through these papers for hours and got lost. I shuffled everything together and headed out. Before reaching the elevator, I noticed Hannah's office lights were still on.
I paused in Hannah's doorway, surprised by the warm glow still spilling from her office. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left hours ago with Olivia."
Hannah's head emerged from behind a mountain of paperwork, her reading glasses perched low on her nose. "With everything that's been going on, I'm pretty behind." She gestured at the chaos on her desk. "Decided to stay and get things caught up."
Hannah was an excellent employee, and she was already guaranteed a position after graduation because she outworked everyone else. I leaned against the doorframe. "Hannah, I appreciate you helping out with Olivia. This whole thing was unexpected, and I'm not sure what I would have done without you. It definitely would have been a mess."
A tired smile crossed her face. "As I said before, I like Olivia, and it's been fun, but—" Her fingers drummed against the desk as she searched for words.
"But what?"
Hannah pushed back from her desk and rose slowly, her expression turning serious. "Who is she?"
"Who is who?
She began pacing behind her desk, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "Who is Olivia? Where did she come from?" She stood from behind her desk. "I know she's special to you; that much is obvious, but I don't know why, and I don't know what happened to her." I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "I'm not trying to dig, but I've seen the scar on her back, and when we talk about the past, or I ask her a question, she immediately closes up. I'm not trying to be nosy; I'm trying to be her friend."
"What do you want to know?" I asked, moving to take a seat in the seating area of her office, and she followed by taking a seat across from me.
"Whatever you're willing to tell me."
What was I willing to tell her? Truthfully, she'd been good to Olivia, and it was evident that she cared about her, but could I tell her the whole story? I never discussed it with anyone other than Kathryn. I looked over to Hannah, who sat completely still, and decided that if someone should know, it should be her.
"Okay." I wasn't sure where to start, so I decided on the beginning. "Olivia's older brother, Emmett, and I were best friends as kids. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, I moved in with Emmett's family. Olivia was a baby when I moved in, so she doesn't remember much. Emmett's parents treated me like part of the family, no different than Olivia and Emmett."
I paused briefly to catch my breath; I knew I was talking fast, and I was trying to slow myself down. "I lived with them until I left for college. Emmett graduated two years after I did, and I flew home for his graduation vacation. We all flew to Hawaii for two weeks." I smiled, remembering the trip. "The day after we got back, Emmett and I wanted to go catch up with some of our old high school friends and shoot some hoops, and of course, Olivia wanted to go too."
I paused again, swallowing hard. I could feel the lump forming in my throat. "Of course, we'd spent two weeks with Olivia tagging along with us, and we wanted a break, but Mrs. Ryan gave us a look that said, 'Let her go with you,' and we did."
I looked over to Hannah to see if she was still following along. "The community center was only about a block away from the house, so we all walked. Once we got there, we weren't very nice to Olivia. I was an asshole to her. I made her cry, and she ran back home." I stood and started to pace. "We only played for another few minutes before we all decided to head down to a local pizza place. I felt bad, so I told Emmett I would run home and get Olivia first. I told them to go on without me and that I'd catch up."
"So, did Emmett go back with you?"
My hands clenched and unclenched as the memories surfaced. "No, he went on with the others. I ran back to the house as fast as I could." My voice grew hoarse. "I heard her screaming before I even reached the door. I had no idea what was going on, but I ran faster."
I stopped pacing and stared unseeing at Hannah's office wall. "When I opened the front door..." The words stuck in my throat. "I'll never forget it."
Hannah leaned forward in her chair, her face pale. "Forget what?"
My legs felt suddenly weak. I sank into the nearest chair, elbows on my knees. "Mr. Ryan was still sitting on the couch covered in blood." The office seemed to grow colder with each word. "Mrs. Ryan was lying on the floor with her throat slit. I couldn't move until—" I swallowed hard. "Until I heard Olivia whining. She was lying face down on the floor with a single stab wound to the back."
Hannah pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh my god, that's horrible. What did you do?"
I scrubbed a hand across my face, trying to ground myself in the present. "I found the phone, called 9-1-1. They walked me through what to do for Olivia." The memory of my shaking hands pressing towels against her wound flashed through my mind. "When the police got there and took over, I called Emmett. He met us at the hospital.”
"Was everyone—" Hannah's voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Was everyone okay?"
I met her eyes, seeing my own pain reflected there. "No. Olivia's mom and dad were dead at the scene." I looked down at my hands, remembering how small Olivia's had been in mine at the hospital.
Hannah rose from her chair and studied me, her professional demeanor giving way to something deeper. "You feel guilty." Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk. "You think it's your fault Olivia got hurt."
The words clawed their way out of my throat. "Of course I do." My reflection fractured in the window behind Hannah’s desk—twenty-year-old me, sneering at a child who only wanted to be included. Present-day me, still carrying that moment like a brand. "If I hadn't been an asshole to a little girl..." The memory of her tears was crystal clear after nine years, each one a separate accusation. "She would have been with us. Safe."
Hannah started to speak, but I cut her off. The truth had festered too long to stay buried. "I wasn't some stupid kid who didn't know better." I shoved a hand through my hair. "I was twenty years old. A grown man." Bile rose in my throat as I forced myself to say it: "A grown man who made a little girl cry because what—because I was annoyed? Because I wanted to play basketball without my friend's kid sister tagging along?" The laugh that escaped me sounded dangerously close to a sob. "I sent her home to die because I couldn't spare an afternoon."
"Mr. Pearson?—"
"Please." I ran a hand through my hair, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "Call me Nick."
Hannah stepped around her desk, her heels silent now on the plush carpet. "Nick, what happened to Olivia wasn't your fault. You were both kids."
A harsh laugh escaped me. "I wasn't a kid." My reflection in the window caught my eye—the same face that had sneered at a twelve-year-old girl nine years ago. "I was a grown man picking on a little girl."
"I'll admit that was probably wrong." Hannah perched on the edge of her desk, her expression softening. "But it wasn't your fault.
The city lights blurred outside the window as I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. "I know that, but I still feel guilty."
Hannah's voice came quietly from behind me. "Does she blame you?"
I turned, my throat tight. "She doesn't remember." The words tasted bitter. My eyes squeezed shut as memories threatened to overwhelm me.
Hannah took a step closer, her clipboard forgotten on the desk. "She doesn't remember anything.
The weight of nine years of secrets pressed down on my shoulders. I slumped back against the window. "No. She doesn't remember the attack." Each word felt like another stone being added to my burden. "Doesn't remember being at the community center. Doesn't remember what we said to her. Doesn't remember seeing her parents' bodies." My voice cracked. "She doesn't remember any of it."
"That's probably a good thing. I wouldn't want to remember any of that."
"She sees it all every night in her nightmares, but when she wakes up, she doesn't remember it." I paused briefly. "It's so hard seeing her like that. It took me back to nine years ago, and I saw the twelve-year-old girl she used to be."
"You're a good man, Nick, and she's lucky to have you." She patted my shoulder and gave me a sorrowful look. "You have to forgive yourself because if Olivia did remember, I promise you, she wouldn't blame you, and it would hurt her feelings that you blame yourself."
I smiled. She knew Olivia. "Are you sure you're majoring in business and not psychology?"
"I minored in psychology."
"I have to go out of town on a personal matter tomorrow; will you keep an eye on Olivia?"
"Absolutely."
"Thanks. Now go home, Hannah."