Whether Jerome remembered any of this or not, it made no difference to Dimple. She’d already landed her next lead role. And considering that it was Jerome Bardoux’s confession in his own handwriting that would cement Dimple Kapoor in public opinion as a victim of his manipulations, he would have nobody to blame for this but himself.
Chapter Thirty-Six
September 8, 2026
As soon asSaffi turned her phone back on in California, she began working tirelessly to convince Olsen’s ex-wife to meet with her. It took two days of going back and forth, but eventually, Laila Olsen relented. The meeting was set for today, less than a week before Olsen’s trial.
For a testimony, Saffi was willing to promise her anything and everything short of her own lungs. Even then, maybe she could afford to live without one of them.
With how much work there was to do in California, Saffi never should’ve gone to Toronto in the first place. But there were so many emotions warring for attention, and she didn’t know what to do with them. It seemed like Saffi had been making mistake after mistake lately and all she could think about was when the other shoe would drop. At the same time, she couldn’t stop making them. Like watching a car crash, except she was driving both cars.
The cab pulled into the gated community and Saffi was out of it before the wheels had stopped rolling. There was no time to waste.
With how frazzled Olsen’s ex-wife seemed, ponytail lopsided and blouse halfway untucked, she didn’t seem to notice Saffi’s urgency. They were around the same age and Saffi was startled to see that she was wearing blue-colored contacts. Neither of them offered a hand to shake.
“Sorry, they’re still renovating a few rooms, so we’ll have to talk in the garden,” the ex-wife huffed. “They told me they’d be done months ago, but here we are.”
“Lead the way,” Saffi said.
It turned out that when she saidgarden,she meant a full-blown park. Saffi was led around into a backyard of lush green grasses, tall trees, and wildflowers. The two of them took a seat at a circlet of green cushioned chairs near the water fountain.
The woman had lived at Olsen’s mansion in Beverly Hills until their divorce, working a few odd acting jobs on the side, but most of her wealth now came from the split itself. Either the ex-wife didn’t think far ahead enough to worry about running out of money or Olsen’s wealth was simply extensive enough that she didn’t have to. You’d think after so many divorces the man would learn to sign a prenup.
“Can I get you anything?” the ex-wife asked. “Tea? Snacks?”
“No,” Saffi said. “I’m sure you already have an idea of what I’m here for?”
Laila Olsen dropped her gaze to the cobbled ground. She nodded grimly. “I do.”
“If you testify in Hector Olsen’s defense, he’ll have no choice but to corroborate your story,” Saffi explained simply. It was most respectful, given the circumstances, to lay all her cards out in the open and let the woman make the decision for herself. “He’ll have to admit to it. That’s all you’ll need to get justice for yourself and all the women before you.”
Laila Olsen didn’t say a word, staring down at the hands clenched tightly in her lap. Before she could speak again, Saffi’s phone started buzzing with a call. She immediately declined. That should’ve been enough of a hint regarding her availability. When it started up again seconds later, she turned it off with a huff of annoyance.
Saffi continued, “Don’t you want justice for what he’s actually done? Olsen is a vile excuse for a man, but he isn’t a murderer.”
“He almost was,” Olsen’s ex-wife said so softly it gave Saffi chills. “That night, I was scared he would become one.”
Saffi didn’t know what to say to that. The urge to give up and letthe man be convicted came back with force. Olsen deserved it. But Saffi had more to think about than herself. It wasn’t as easy for her to turn off the care she had for the people in her life as it seemed to be for Dimple.
“He put something in my drink. I couldn’t defend myself.”
And this was why Olsen had to be punished for the crimes he had actually committed. Even now, people called his ex-wives liars and gold diggers. But when Saffi looked at this woman, she realized that the last thing on her mind was what the world thought. All Laila Olsen cared about was finally being free from the man who haunted her.
There had to be another way. Taylor would try putting himself in the ex-wife’s shoes to see where she was coming from. Andino would declare this route a dead end and spend his time looking into something else. Saffi’s father would stay far away from personal matters, choosing instead to wear her down with the power of the law. Dimple Kapoor, though, would probably suggest killing him and being done withit.
Although, that wasn’t exactly true. Dimple never took unnecessary risks—she wouldn’t kill unless she was certain it would get her what she wanted in the end. She was capable of using other methods, just as lawless as murder.
“Laila,” Saffi found herself saying suddenly. The other woman looked up at the sound of her name. “Look, I know this isn’t fair. None of what happened to you is and I’m sorry for that. I know you want Olsen to be punished for what he did—and he should be. But you’d be doing Irene Singh a disservice if you allowed Olsen to take the blame for this.”
“I know I shouldn’t take advantage—” Laila began, but Saffi cut her off.
“When did I say that?” she asked with a smirk. She felt so much like Dimple in that moment. “You’re forgetting that Olsen needs your testimony. That means you can say anything you want under oath and if he wants to avoid life in prison, then he’ll have to agree.”
Laila’s eyebrows rose in understanding. “Anything,” she echoed.
“Anything.”
She seemed to be consideringit.
