Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
OLIVER
The shower started up in our bathroom, the sound of water on tiles too reminiscent of my hands smoothing over Zahra's skin. I couldn't be in this room right now. Not with her so close, so vulnerable, so unreachable.
"I need coffee," I muttered, grabbing my phone and key card.
The hallway felt too narrow, the elevator too confined. Everything in this place seemed designed to trap me with thoughts I couldn't afford to indulge. By the time I reached the lobby, my fingers were twitching with suppressed tension.
I bypassed the hotel restaurant, too crowded with wedding guests, and found my way to a small terrace on the east side of the building. A few scattered tables, most unoccupied at this hour, offered the solitude I craved.
Coffee acquired, I settled into a corner seat, back to the wall, with a view of both entrances. Old habits.
The first sip burned bitter against my tongue, the caffeine a welcome jolt to my exhausted system. I hadn't slept much last night, too consumed with the information I'd gathered, the connections I'd traced, the decision that loomed before me.
The Nazarians' home kept surfacing in my thoughts. Their warmth. Their acceptance. The way Zahra had looked at me before closing the door, offering a second chance I wasn't sure I deserved.
I'd spent my adult life being the rock, the one others leaned on. I was the strong one, the supportive one, the one who fixed problems. First for Emmet, then for Alyssa, now for Zahra.
But no one had ever been that for me.
No. That wasn't accurate .
It wasn't that no one had tried, it was that I didn't know how to lean on others.
I'd been self-dependent since I was old enough to understand that showing weakness in my household meant inviting criticism, not comfort.
So, I became the person who never needed support, but readily offered it to others. I became the dependable one.
Solid.
Unmovable.
Alone.
It’s what eventually saved me from the miserable life I was expected to live—an accountant at my father’s firm, a good Christian wife approved by my mother, forever trapped in Norman.
But now, it felt like my downfall.
Alyssa had tried. When Emmet came home with me, she was the first to have our backs, no questions asked. But it wore her down, my inability to shift, flex.
I had a plan, and it was the best way to ensure Emmet got what he needed.
It was also what drove a wedge between Alyssa and me.
Her parting words still echoed: "I can't keep doing this, Oliver.
I can't keep loving someone who sidelines me in all the big decisions in his life, like I haven’t earned my place under the gurney. "
I'd told myself it was about my job at Foxy's, about putting Emmet first. But looking back, I could see the truth. It was about me doing everything alone, never forming a true partnership, never truly letting her in.
And now, Zahra...
Something had changed. For the first time, I found myself wanting to tear down those walls. To let someone see the real me—messy, damaged, obsessive, but also capable of the kind of devotion that rewrote the laws of my carefully ordered universe.
This wasn't about Zahra's trust in me. It was about me trusting myself enough to let go of the control I maintained over my own life, to let someone else in without a plan, without knowing the results.
The realization settled over me like the gravitational certainty of a collapsing star.
I knew what I needed to do. I would tell Zahra everything—the trust violation, my parents' betrayal, Davidson's conspiracy with the church, Ryan and her aunt’s involvement, why I was really in Norman.
I'd trigger the supernova and let the stellar remnants scatter across the galaxy as they will.
"Ollie."
The voice sent ice through my veins, stopping my breath mid-inhale. I hadn't paid attention, too wrapped up in my cosmic epiphany to notice someone approaching. But I didn’t need to look up to know who stood there.
Only one person had ever managed to compress that much disdain into the two syllables of my hated nickname.
I raised my eyes slowly, finding my mother standing across the table, elegant as always in a tasteful navy dress and pearls. Her smile held the same practiced warmth it displayed in church directories and charity gala photos—never reaching her eyes.
"Mother." My voice emerged steady, revealing none of the turmoil her presence ignited. "What a surprise."
"Is it?" She settled into the chair opposite me without waiting for an invitation. "I heard you were in town. And with a girlfriend?" Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the table. "Zahra Nazarian, isn't it? Such a surprise to hear you two reconnected after all these years."
I didn't answer, watching her calculate her next move. My mother had never engaged in small talk without purpose. But she just stared back with that fake smile. Eventually, I ran out of patience.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Her smile was tight, and she brushed an invisible speck off the table. "How are you and Laura doing?"
"His name is Emmet," I corrected, the familiar tension settling between my shoulder blades. “And he’s doing great. Top of his class in psychology. Thriving. Free .”
Her fake smile dropped.
Good . I wasn’t interested in maintaining the pretense of small talk.
"We know about your visit to the records office." Her voice carried the same disapproving tone she'd used when I first told her about my dream of becoming an astrophysicist instead of working at my father's accounting firm.
“Is looking at public records a crime?”
“And your visit to the church,” she continued, ignoring my snide remark. "This is our town, Ollie. Our home field. You can't win here."
"I'm not sure what you think I'm trying to win," I replied, keeping my tone neutral despite the rapid acceleration of my pulse.
"Don't play dumb, Oliver. It doesn't suit you." She leaned forward. "Your father and I have worked very hard to build our life here. We have connections, resources, respect. What do you have?" Her gaze swept over me, assessing and dismissive. "Debt, a dead-end teaching position, and an abomin?—"
"Do not finish that thought," I cut through clenched teeth. "You do not disrespect my brother, and you do not threaten my family."
My mother’s eyes widened, seemingly caught off guard by my furious reaction, but she quickly poised herself.
"And now this...arrangement with the Nazarian girl. Do you think people won't find out? That it won't ruin her reputation by association? That it won't destroy what little academic credibility you've managed to scrape together?"
The threats came wrapped in motherly concern, each one precisely aimed at my vulnerabilities. They'd ruin me, ruin Emmet, ruin Zahra. They had all the resources, all the connections.
My mother's face twisted into something most people would perceive as sympathy, but I knew better.
"If you love them, you'll be on a plane back to Seattle tonight.” She reached across the table as if to touch my hand. “Otherwise? By the time they cut the wedding cake, everyone will know you’re a working man . Think about what that would do to Zahra.”
My jaw clenched tighter, hands curling into fists.
“And if you even think of approaching Davidson or contesting the court ruling, all your sacrifices will be for nothing."
My scientific mind cataloged threats and variables even as rage burned cold in my chest. They'd been watching me. They knew about Zahra. About Foxy's. My mother's smug expression said they probably had proof.
But Davidson? It never occurred to me to hunt down the head of the snake. Until now.
"You haven't changed at all, have you?" My voice came out steady despite the trembling in my hands. "Still using the church to justify cruelty. Still thinking money and status can buy the right to destroy lives."
"Oh, Ollie, you’ve always been so dramatic.
" She reached for my cheek like she used to when I was small.
I leaned away. "We're trying to protect you.
From scandal. From sin." Her eyes drifted to where Zahra's name lit up on my phone with an incoming message.
"From making more...unfortunate choices. "
The implied threat against Zahra made my vision go red. But years of protecting Emmet had taught me to channel rage into strategy. They were threatening everyone I loved because they knew it was my weakness.
And they were right.
"Is that all?" I asked, my voice cold.
She studied me, then sighed dramatically. "Think about what's truly important, Oliver. Family. Legacy. Your future." She stood, smoothing her already immaculate dress. "You have until tomorrow morning to make the right decision."
I watched my mother walk away, my fists clenching under the table as I processed what had just happened.
Then, as if hit by a gamma-ray burst, I shot up from my seat and ran.
I had to get to Zahra. Now .
Halfway to the elevators, I screeched to a halt.
My mother and Maryam Ansari, expressions grave as they engaged in a hushed discussion.
Slowly, I backed into a hidden corner, staring, guessing. Engrossed in the scheming happening right in front of me in broad daylight.
Then Ryan materialized beside me.
"Rough reunion?" Ryan's smile was practiced concern as he peered over my shoulder. "Oooh, damn, yeah, I wouldn’t want to be on those two’s bad side either.”
I kept my face neutral, but Ryan pressed on.
“So, just a friendly heads up, but word about your employment situation is spreading." I crossed my arms, leaning a shoulder against the wall as I watched my mother walk out of the hotel. "It's obvious nobody wants you here, Beck. Not your family, not the bride's family, definitely not me.”
He paused, waiting for me to react, as if his opinion held any weight.
“I mean, come on, Beck. Think about Zahra's reputation. Her career. Her family ties."
Another pause. I still didn’t deign him with a response.
"Even your academic career. It would be a shame if someone reported your side gig to the Office of Academic Integrity."
Each word was calculated, an aimed arrow, but I maintained my unfazed exterior, turning to look at Ryan with a cold glare.
"It's never a good idea to meddle in other people's business, Ryan."
"Yeah, but you know, I'm worried for our girl." The way he said "our" like he still had some claim to Zahra made my fingers prickle with the need to hurt him. "You've always been a logical guy, Beck. Zahra won't listen to sense, but you?—"
He was pinned against the wall before he could finish the sentence, my fingers wrapped around his throat.
"What did I tell you would happen if you ever spoke to her directly again?"
Ryan's smirk turned into a chuckle.
"Oh, Ollie." His hand lifted to pat my shoulder with a condescending smirk, but he never made it that far.
My grip tightened, squeezed, crushed.
Ryan's smirk stayed plastered to his face for another heartbeat, but then his expression morphed to dread and he gurgled, clawing at my grip.
"I said I'd watch with satisfaction as the life slowly drained from your eyes.
" My voice was conversational, calm, even as sick satisfaction coursed through me at the sounds of his struggle.
"Did you not believe me?" Ryan's eyes grew even more frightened, his movements becoming erratic with panic, but all I did was increase the pressure.
It took such minimal effort that I almost felt sorry for the helpless bastard. Almost. "Do you believe me now?"
My knuckles were white, fingers curled around his neck, unmoved by his attempts to break free—as if he were nothing more than a rag doll swaying with the breeze.
Ryan's face started to change color, his breath becoming short, strained wheezes. I held on for a second longer, then let him crumple to the floor.
"I'm not going anywhere, and you're keeping your mouth shut.” I pulled a cloth out of my pocket and wiped the lenses of my glasses with meticulous motions. “Understood?"
Ryan wheezed, staring at me in utter mortification. I glanced down at him, one eyebrow raised. His eyes grew wide with fear, and he quickly nodded.
I pushed my glasses back up my nose without gracing Ryan with so much as another look.
"See you at the wedding, Ryan."
Walking away, I realized something. I'd sacrifice anything to protect Zahra—even my chance at justice.
My inheritance could wait.
She couldn't.