Chapter 4 The First Suspect

The Accusations Begin

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare down on the clean, gray walls of the interrogation room. Olivia's wrists were cuffed to the metal table, her skin a sickly, drawn pale color. Across from her, Detective Harris leaned forward, his sharp-angled face a mask of suspicion.

Let's go over it again," he said, his voice steady but firm. "You report returning home, finding your husband dead, and not being involved in his murder. But there's evidence to the contrary."

Olivia's throat ached from repetitive questioning. "I didn't kill him. I loved him.".

Harris's eyebrow arched. "Loved him? Even after he controlled your every move? After he had a private investigator uncover your past?"

Olivia's eyes faltered with fear. "You don't understand. Victor was... complicated. But I didn't want him dead."

Before Harris could respond, the door burst open. Helena Harrington strode in, designer heels clacking aggressively on the floor. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, but her face was twisted with rage.

"You!" she bellowed, shaking a manicured finger at Olivia. "You killed him! You wanted his wealth, and now you have it!"

Olivia cringed. "Helena, I didn't-"

Don't lie to me!" Helena's voice cracked, the tears streaming down her face. "You were never good enough for him. You were just a gold-digger, and you've destroyed everything!"

Harris got up and moved between them. "Miss Harrington, you must calm down."

Helena flung a final angry look at Olivia and stormed off, her sobbing echoing down the hall.

The Warning

Olivia sat on the bed, her head reeling. The apartment was small and sparsely furnished, a world away from the opulence of the Harrington mansion. But it was safe-or so she thought.

There was a knock at the door that made her jump. She stayed put, then crossed over, looking through the peephole. There was nobody.

She opened the door, looking out into the empty hallway. There was a package on the floor, wrapped in brown paper. Her name was scrawled on the front in messy letters.

Olivia grabbed it, trembling as she unwrapped it. Underneath was an old photo of her and Damien Cross, a man she had believed died years ago.

A note was tucked underneath the photo: You should have remained hidden.

Olivia's blood went cold. She closed the door, her heart hammering away.

The Shadow

Olivia stood at the window, city lights twinkling far off in the distance. She felt exposed, open.

Movement at the corner of her eye left her gasping. She stood forward, catching her breath as a figure crested into view.

He was a man, his hooded head revealing but a glimmer of his features. He stood under her window, his eyes pinning hers in place.

Olivia retreated, her heart pounding. The man was gone, slipping back into darkness, leaving Olivia with an unholy feeling that would not release her.