“No, thank you. I don’t need a ride. I can walk, thank you very much.”

“Ma’am, please. It’s for your safety,” Marshall pleaded.

Olivia looked back at Carter who had successfully gotten rid of the photographers. “I’d rather walk.”

“Well, we’ll still be escorting you home, whether you’re in the car or not.” Marshall went to speak with Carter as Olivia stood there, glaring at both of them. After a few moments, Marshall returned. “I’ll walk with you, but Carter wants you to take his jacket. He says he’ll lose his job if anything happens to you, including getting sick because you’re too fucking stubborn to get in the car.” Olivia looked at Marshall, shocked. “His words, not mine, ma’am.”

Olivia turned her head toward Carter, her mouth wide open. He handed Olivia his jacket and shrugged. If one more person shrugs at me today, I’m going to scream, she thought, stalking off onto Clarendon Street, Marshall close behind. Carter followed slowly behind them in the car. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a fucking child,” Olivia muttered under her breath.

“Well, you certainly seem to be acting like one, ma’am,” Marshall said.

Olivia stopped in her tracks and looked at her, her mouth wide open again.

“With all due respect.”

Olivia turned and continued to walk faster.

Marshall’s cell phone rang loudly and Olivia groaned, knowing all too well who was on the other end. “Marshall,” she answered curtly. “Yes, sir… I understand sir… I’m sorry, sir, but we had to compromise… Yes, sir… One moment, sir…” She turned to Olivia. “It’s Mr. Burnham.” She held the phone out. “He would like to speak with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to him right now,” Olivia spat out loudly so he could hear her.

“DAMN IT, OLIVIA! START ACTING YOUR FUCKING AGE!” Alexander shouted through the phone. Olivia could picture him, sitting in his penthouse, pulling his hair with that exasperated look on his face. She wondered if he still had his shirt off, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he shouted. His delectable body… No, Libby. Focus, she reminded herself.

She grabbed the phone. “I am acting my fucking age. How did you find me anyway, Alex?”

“I tracked your cell phone, Olivia. You ran out with no security. Not very smart after what happened earlier this week,” he growled.

“Stop following me! Or sending your minions to follow me!” She took a deep breath before lowering her voice. “I don’t need you to always try to fix things, Alex. Some things are just too broken.” He was silent on the other end, as was Olivia.

He exhaled. “Olivia, love,” he sobbed quietly, breaking the awkward silence. His voice pained her heart. He was clearly upset. That was not the voice of a man who would hurt her.

“Alex, please. I just need some space. Some time. I just…I just need to think.”

“What is there to think about? This isn’t that complicated.”

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me.”

“Olivia, answer me this. And don’t think. Don’t let that brain of yours get in the way. Do. You. Love. Me?”

She stood silent on the sidewalk, staring at cars crawling down the Boston Streets. Did she love him?

“I can’t do this right now, Alex. Time. Please. Just give me time.”

“I’ll wait the rest of my life for you, Olivia Adler. You’re the love of my fucking life. This doesn’t happen every day. I’ll give you the space you need. Just know that I will always wait for you.”

Alexander heard a quiet sob on the other end of the phone. “Always, love,” he whispered before hanging up.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his top desk drawer, finding the envelope that had plagued his conscience the past several years. He stared at the letter, unsure whether he really wanted to know what information it contained. Why should a simple piece of paper petrify him so much? But it did. Then again, if he wanted Olivia to get over her fear of love, he would have to face his own demons.

He slid a finger underneath the seal and pulled out the faded piece of paper. As he read, his heart sank. It was so much worse than he ever imagined. Olivia’s dreams were right.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS

DEAR ALEX,

IF YOU’RE reading this letter, it means I’m dead. I knew this day would come eventually, but I’m just glad that it took over fifteen years to happen.

First, I want to apologize to you for never being there when you were growing up. I know it wasn’t easy on you, and I’d like to say that I regret my actions, but there were circumstances involved that were out of my control.

You see, son, Olivia never died in that crash. I’ve been keeping her hidden since she woke up in the hospital all those years ago. She didn’t remember anything so it was quite easy to manipulate her brain into believing whatever I told her. I couldn’t let anyone know she was still alive. I was the only one who knew who she really was.

The reason I’m telling you this now is that someone, somehow, has found out that she never died in the crash and that I’ve been protecting her all these years. I don’t know how, but they know.

Her life is in danger.

Your Uncle Jack worked for the CIA as an analyst. About a month before the accident, your Aunt Marilyn came to me for help. Jack had uncovered some pretty heavy shit, pardon my French. He didn’t know who he could turn to for help. A lot of the key players were higher-ups in various government agencies, offices, and what have you.

He discovered a ring of politicians that was accepting large kickbacks from shell corporations in exchange for distribution of U.S. military equipment and classified information. These shell corporations were, in fact, various terrorist organizations. Back then, we weren’t as organized as we try to be now when it comes to terrorist activity.

Regardless, he had amassed a great deal of evidence and had begun to approach some of these traitors, asking them to come forward and turn themselves in. Well, instead of coming forward, they hired Jacob Kiddish, a well-known “cleaner”. Unfortunately, Kiddish had never gotten caught. Although he was suspected to be involved in disposing of threats to various politicians on more than one occasion, that was just speculation and nothing ever stuck. He ran a legitimate consulting business and no one ever connected the dots to him.

Kiddish followed the DeLucas on that day in August all those years ago. It was him who ran their car off the road and into a tree. Olivia’s mother died on impact. When I ran to the car, she was already dead. You know now that Olivia survived, but so did her father. He is alive. He shot Jacob Kiddish that day. We put his body in the DeLuca’s car, knowing that it would blow up at any minute from the gas leak.