Chapter 3

Olivia's POV

Three days later.

"Ding-dong—"

The doorbell interrupted the happy chatter in Sterling Manor's dining room.

Richard was buried in the Wall Street Journal, Elizabeth delicately cut her eggs, and Arthur and Mia whispered sweet nothings like horny teenagers.

"First Paris, then Rome..." Arthur kissed Mia's hand. "Once we're officially engaged, I want everyone to know you're my wife."

"You're the best, Arthur." Mia giggled and snuggled into his shoulder.

Nobody said my name. Like Olivia Sterling never existed.

"Sir, there's NYPD here to see you." The butler rushed in, looking shaken.

Richard didn't look up. "Cops? We don't do anything illegal. What do they want? Tell them to get lost."

"It's a detective from Major Crimes. Says it's urgent."

Arthur snorted. "Let me guess—Olivia's pulling some crazy shit again."

"She probably ran to the cops with some bullshit story about how we treat her." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "That bitch loves playing victim."

Mia immediately buried her face in Arthur's chest. "Arthur, what if she's trying to get me arrested? I only tried the necklace on..."

"Relax, babe. She can't do shit to you."

A middle-aged guy in a gray coat walked into the dining room, eyeing everyone.

"Detective Davis, NYPD Major Crimes." He showed his badge. "Olivia Sterling live here?"

Elizabeth threw down her fork. "Detective, we're eating breakfast. If you're here about some charity thing, call my assistant. Otherwise, make it fast."

"What's that psycho bitch up to now?" Arthur stood up. "She file some fake abuse report? Detective, don't waste your time on that lying piece of shit. She's just being dramatic."

Detective Davis frowned. "Sir, Olivia didn't file anything. She's been missing three days. Phone's off, no credit card activity."

Richard drummed his fingers on the table. "So? She's grown. If she wants to throw a tantrum, that's her deal. She'll come back when she's hungry. Look, if that's all this is—"

I floated above them, staring at my father's bored expression. My own dad. His daughter missing for three days, and he thinks it's just drama.

"It's worse than you think." Detective Davis's voice got hard. "Last night we found a burned body at an abandoned chemical plant in West Brooklyn. Female."

The room went dead quiet.

Then Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Detective, are you serious right now? You think that's Olivia? Give me a break! That selfish little brat? This is totally one of her stupid games!"

"A game? She burned herself alive for a game?" The detective was pissed.

"Who says it's even her?" Arthur smirked. "She probably bought some homeless chick's body and had you find it! She'd do anything to trap me into marrying her! Detective, check her bank statements—bet there's payments for buying corpses!"

I had to hand it to Arthur's creativity. Buy a corpse? I couldn't afford Starbucks without begging Elizabeth—where the hell would I get body money?

Detective Davis took a breath, clearly stunned by how cold they were.

He pulled out a clear evidence bag and slammed it on the fancy table.

"Victim's face was torched. Scene was cleaned, no ID." He pointed at what was inside. "But the medical examiner found this fused to the burned left ring finger."

Everyone stared at the bag.

A diamond ring sat inside.

The stone was black with soot, the white gold twisted into a warped mess, covered in charcoal and dark red chunks of flesh.

That ring—Arthur had grabbed it from some sale rack when he proposed. Wrong size, always cut into my finger, but I wore it every damn day like it was the crown jewels.

The detective locked eyes with Arthur. "Ring's got 'A & O' engraved inside. Arthur and Olivia. Your engagement ring, right?"

Arthur looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Still think she's faking it, Mr. Winston?"