Chapter 7

The air inside the car turned heavy. Olivia looked at Alex's profile and asked softly, "Your uncle, William Walker?" He nodded, and a chill slid down her back.

William was the presiding judge in Nathan's case. To the outside world, he was also the Walker family's mildest, least ambitious elder.

Then the anonymous text flashed through Olivia's mind again: Someone set him up. That person's last name is Walker. Could it really be William?

Outside, the night looked like ink and the city lights in the distance like a tightening net. Alex's home turned out to be a downtown penthouse duplex rather than Walker Manor.

As soon as Olivia entered, the lights came on, and he told her that Nathan's safety would be handled first thing in the morning.

Standing in the living room, Olivia felt oddly out of place. Five years ago, Alex had been a graduate student living in a dorm. Now he was practically the real power behind the Walker family.

Olivia said, "Thank you."

Alex turned back to look at her. "At my place, you don't need to thank me. What you owe me can't be paid off with one 'thank you.'"

Alex went into the kitchen and asked if she had eaten.

Only then did Olivia remember she had managed exactly one bite of fish that night. When she admitted she hadn't, he took eggs and tomatoes from the fridge and told her to sit and wait.

Olivia sat by the counter and watched him roll up his sleeves and cook with easy, practiced motions.

Under the lights, his hard features softened enough to stir an old memory: the tiny apartment where he'd once promised to buy her a big house and the best range hood money could buy.

They had broken up before that dream came true. Now he had the big house, the enormous kitchen, and imported German appliances, yet he was still the only one standing there, cooking alone.

A steaming bowl of tomato-and-egg noodles was set in front of her. Looking down at the golden egg and bright tomatoes, Olivia felt her eyes burn again.

"Don't cry, eat." Alex sat across from her with a bowl of his own and lowered his head to eat quickly.

Olivia picked up her chopsticks and took a bite. It tasted exactly the same as it had five years ago, and no matter how hard she bit her lip, tears still fell into the bowl.

Alex looked up and paused, then asked if it tasted bad. Olivia shook her head, her voice thick with tears, and told him it was good. He said nothing more.

They finished the noodles in silence. After Alex loaded the bowls into the dishwasher, he told her to go upstairs and rest. Tomorrow would be busy.

The guest room was large, neat, and gray like a hotel suite. After washing up, Olivia lay awake staring at the ceiling, her mind packed with everything that had happened that day.

The reunion. The text messages. The truth. William's phone call. And Alex's words: "She is mine. She was mine five years ago, and she is still mine now."

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow. Then footsteps came to a stop outside her door. Light under the crack outlined a silent shadow that remained there for a long time.

At last the footsteps moved away. Olivia didn't know why Alex had come or what he had been thinking, but she knew one thing for certain.