But that was far from Saffi’s concern. With this leak, Dimple had effectively put an even shorter time limit on the investigation. Saffi had, at most, until the end of September to find something undeniable; something that would make any judge stop in their tracks. Because with the way things were looking now, a jury could very well convict Hector Olsen for Dimple Kapoor’s crimes.
But would that be so bad?
Saffi bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could. The metallic taste of blood grounded her. Of course it would be. She’d already promised herself that she would never put anyone else unrighteously on death row. With the new year looming closer, so was her father’s next senate election. After five years abroad, she couldn’t announce her return just to ruin things for him now. Though part of her wondered why she was so worried about his opinion when he’d never offered her anything but criticism in the first place.
Why are you so eager to leave your family behind? Do you hate us so much?he’d said when she’d shared the news that she’d gotten into Harvard.
When she’d told him she wanted to be a private investigator, not a lawyer, it wasClearly you have no appreciation for the things I’ve taught you.
But this nasty, vindictive part of her sounded suspiciously like Dimple Kapoor, so she promptly shoved it aside.
Act III
Execution
Chapter Thirty
September 1, 2026
Five days beforeInsomnia’s premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, Dimple Kapoor found herself on the receiving end of far more pity than she could withstand.
“I always knew he had it out for you. The way he would look at you sometimes—I only wish I had said something earlier.”
Dimple had already forgotten the name of whomever she was talking to, not that it mattered. This was definitely the first time they’d spoken on the phone, and possibly the first time they’d said more than a few sentences to each other. This influx in pity was an unforeseen consequence of the article about Hector Olsen she’d anonymously leaked last week.
On her couch, scrolling through her notifications, Dimple listened with one ear. She tried not to flinch when Irene Singh’s face took up the screen. Ever since the public found out her death was no accident, there’d been a whole new resurgence of love for her.
Even more disturbing was the small yet vocal group that vehemently denied any and all claims of Irene’s death, swearing up and down that she had, in fact, gone into hiding somewhere in the Cayman Islands.
“Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t possibly have predicted this,” Dimple replied.
“How are you doing?”
“I suppose I am shaken up.”
Dimple smiled at the messages under the most recent photo Priyal had posted of her. Fans seemed to enjoy her recent magazine cover shoots. Perhaps she ought to say yes to those opportunities more often.
“Oh, you poor thing.”
It was obvious they’d only called so they could sell their story to the press later on.Up-and-coming actor Whatever Their Name Is has shared that their close and personal friend, Dimple Kapoor, is “shaken up, but hanging in there” in light of recent events.
Having gotten what they wanted, the unknown caller quickly made their excuses and hung up. Dimple watched the likes of her most recent post steadily increase. She refreshed the page and the number doubled.
The only genuine call she’d received had been from the owners of the café next door to her first Los Angeles apartment. Every lie that had slipped from her lips while speaking to them had made her stomach twist with guilt. She’d already abused too much of their kindness and so she tried her best to avoid their efforts to reconnect.
In addition to screening phone calls, Dimple had been extraordinarily busy. Between the new lead role she’d landed and promotional work forInsomnia,Dimple hardly noticed as the leaves browned and wind picked up in preparation for a cool Los Angeles fall. There was too much to worry about—for one, the knowledge that her newest movie would be filming at the same lot Hector Olsen was working on. This proposed trouble, but also a unique opportunity.
Amidst the chaos, however, it had been rather calm. Perhaps a little too calm. Hector Olsen’s trial—moved up to the middle of the month—was still too far out for Dimple’s liking. And it would be just like Saffi to pull the rug out from under her at the last moment.
Dimple slipped on a pair of her favorite heels and took the stairs out of her apartment complex. The weather outside today was too nice to ignore. She decided she needed a walk, desperate for the opportunity to clear her head. The wind ruffled her hair and shebreathed in the herbal aroma wafting over from the biryani place nearby.
It reminded her of walking by Irene during lunch breaks on set. Dimple stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked briskly in the opposite direction. She could feel people stare as she passed—perhaps they’d recognized her—but Dimple kept her head ducked.
Months ago, when Dimple Kapoor had fallen off the balcony at a party and been subsequently hospitalized, the Hollywood whisper network had been under the impression that she had a substance abuse problem. Now, however, since every media site was pushing the idea that not only had Dimple Kapoor been attacked, but that Hector Olsen was the culprit, it was another story altogether.
Suddenly, partygoers swore up and down that they remembered Hector Olsen following Dimple Kapoor out to the balcony. Several posts even claimed that they’d witnessed him leaving the party in a blood-soaked suit. And these claims weren’t just limited to the anonymity of the internet. Nearly every single one of Dimple’s acquaintances had been reaching out to her with similar sentiments.
Hollywood was rich in many things, but none so much as scandal. It was imperative to grasp for any stake you could in the fiasco of the moment; that way your interviews for the subsequent documentaries, memoirs, and the like would be secured. All this worked in Dimple’s favor. It was glorious, the power of a single seeded thought. It didn’t matter what Saffi did, nor did it matter that the trial had yet to take place; the world now considered Hector Olsen a guilty man.
