"Shh, let’s not worry about that now. There are a lot of questions we can’t answer yet," I murmured, brushing a kiss atop her head. "Focus on now. It’s all we can do."
"But you always find answers. You fix things." Her eyes sought mine, seeking the certainty I wasn't sure I could give.
"Olivia, some things…" I paused, measuring my next words. "Some things are beyond fixing. But understanding them? That's within reach."
"Will they even let you help?" she asked, skepticism threading her tone.
"Let me?" I almost chuckled at the idea. "Since when do I wait for permission?"
"Mom, the investigator…."
"Doesn't know what he's up against," I finished for her, my voice edged with steel. The professional in me clawed for dominance over the maternal shield I had wrapped around us. It was a fight I knew all too well.
"Be careful," Olivia breathed, her grip tightening on my arm.
"Always am." The promise hung between us, as heavy as the storm clouds gathering outside.
"Find who did this," she said, not a plea but a command—my daughter, every bit as resolute as I.
"Watch me." And with those words, I sealed my commitment to the truth—no matter the cost.
Chapter10
I kept holding Olivia tightly,my arms a cocoon around her shivering form. The room's atmosphere was thick, a cocktail of whispers and choked-back tears. My mind raced—how would she cope with Mark being gone? Her eyes, wide orbs of shock, were mirrors to the chaos within as she clung to me.
"Mom," Olivia whispered, her voice barely a tremor. "It hurts."
"Shh, I'm here," I murmured, stroking her hair.
A sudden shift in the room's energy drew my gaze. Mark's mother, Victoria, stormed in, her presence slicing through the crowd like a knife. Her flushed face was a canvas of raw emotion—anger laced with sorrow. Each step was a statement, her grief morphing into something fierce and palpable.
"Where is she?" Her voice cut across the room, edged and brittle.
The crowd parted. I tightened my hold on Olivia, ready to shield her from whatever eruption was about to break. What was going on?
She stopped in front of us.
"Olivia!" The accusation was a blade flung into silence. "You know what happened to him! You did this!"
The room, a hive of low murmurs, fell deathly quiet. Every head swiveled, and all eyes were fixed on the confrontation unfolding before them.
"Absolutely not," I said, rising to my feet. My voice was a rock, unyielding against the accusation. "Not my daughter. My daughter is innocent."
"Then explain why—" Mark's mother advanced, her grief morphed into fury.
I stood firm, cutting across her words. "There's nothing to explain." My stance was unwavering, and the protective barrier around Olivia was as solid as my conviction. I sat down by her, holding her in my arms. "Olivia loved Mark."
Mark's mother was relentless, her voice escalating with each word. "I saw them! Together on the beach, laughing, sharing secrets!" Her finger jabbed through the air, a missile aimed at Olivia. "Last night. Before my son vanished."
"Victoria, please," came a strained whisper from somewhere in the crowd.
"Quiet!" she snapped back, not breaking eye contact. "They were inseparable, and now? Mark is dead, and she's standing here, unscathed! She was the last one to be with him before he… before he…."
Olivia quivered within my embrace, her body folding into itself like a delicate origami figure threatened by the strong winds. She pressed her palms over her ears as if to muffle the sharpness of the accusations, a low keening sound escaping her lips. She began to rock, slowly at first, then with more urgency—a silent scream etched in every motion.
"Enough!" I said, my voice slicing through the tension. "Your words are daggers, and you're only hurting an innocent girl!"
"Olivia, look at me," I coaxed, trying to draw her out of her protective shell. But the shell was hardening, and the girl I knew disappeared inside it, replaced by a fragile creature racked by unseen blows.
