Page 84 of Oliver
"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.
Twenty-Five
ZAHRA
I scrolled through my feed,pausing on another one of mine and Oliver’s staged photos.
It had only been a month, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Everything seemed so simple back then, so straightforward.
We had a deal. We had a plan.
Would it have been better if things stayed that way? Clinical, clean, cold.
It would have been better than this confusion.
I tucked my feet under me with a sigh.
The rehearsal dinner was in five hours. I should have been getting ready, checking in with Parisa, and running through my mental checklist of details.
Instead, I was curled on the loveseat, trying to process the past few days.
I tensed instinctively at the soft click of the door lock. Then Oliver burst in, his eyes wild, scanning the room frantically before his gaze settled on me.
"You're here," he breathed, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.
"Um, yes, I am." I shifted, placing my phone on the coffee table. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes. No." He shook his head, inhaling deeply before meeting my eyes. "Something in between."
He wasn't making any sense, and the intensity in his eyes made my pulse quicken. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but before the words could form, he crossed the room with long, determined strides.
