Page 79 of Goldrage
Olivia nods slowly, processing this information with unsettling calm. She stands and starts walking again, confusing me, and I’m forced to follow. We continue walking in heavy silence, the only sounds our footsteps on the gravel path and the distant splash of fountains.
Finally, Olivia speaks. “I’d always suspected what happened to Victoria wasn’t an accident. That someone close to her decided…” She sighs. “Well, it’s a surprise to learn it was you, but it makes sense in hindsight. I know what my mother did to yours. It was before I was born, but I’ve heard the stories. I understood the grudges that shaped our family’s reputation.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “In that context, your actions make a certain twisted sense, though Victoria herself was innocent of our mother’s crimes.”
“I know,” I say, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It was wrong. I was a different person then. I was angry and I needed to make someone pay for my mother’s suffering. But Victoria didn’t deserve what I did to her. She was guilty of other things probably, but not the crimes I was avenging. I’m so sorry.”
I wait for justice, my muscles tense, but Olivia only nods. Finally, I ask, “You’re not… upset?”
“I’ve already grieved for my sister. And, inside, yes, I’m quite pissed. But…” she looks at me. “What would killing you in retaliation accomplish? Only more death. And I’ve grown to like you, even if this news leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”
I start crying, not feeling like I deserve such a compassionate response.
To my amazement, Olivia stops walking and pulls me into a gentle embrace. “You poor thing,” she murmurs. “You’ve been carrying this guilt while dealing with everything else—the pregnancy, the politics, the constant surveillance. It’s no wonder you’re falling apart.”
I sob against her shoulder, weeks of suppressed emotion pouring out in a torrent. Who is this woman? I’d expected judgment, violence, retribution. Instead, I found understanding from the one person who had every right to hate me.
“I’ve broken down many times myself,” Olivia continues, stroking my hair and smoothing the strands. “The stress of this life, business, of trying to maintain appearances, the cruelty of men… it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”
When I finally regain my composure, I pull back to study her face. “It would feel better if you’d just hate me.”
Olivia’s smile is tired but genuine. “And lose an opportunity for an ally? No no. I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted by the endless cycle of violence and revenge that defines our world. Victoria and I… we talked about it sometimes, late at night. We wondered what life might be like outside this world. Who we might be if we were born into a different family. But wishing is a stupid thing to do. Because that’s not our reality.”
I nod, understanding settling into my bones.
“Our generation didn’t choose this life,” she continues. “We were born into it, shaped by it, trapped by it. Victoria tried to find ways to protect people when she could, to use her position for good rather than evil. But in the end, this life consumed her anyway. She became more twisted, much like Julian has become. This life is slowly consuming all of us. Some quicker than others.”
We sit on a marble bench, two women finding unexpected common ground in our shared exhaustion with a world that demands violence as the price of survival.
“There’s still hope,” I say, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “It doesn’t have to be this way forever.”
Olivia laughs, but there’s no mockery, only weary disbelief. “You have more faith than I do. But I admire it, even if I can’t share it.” She opens her purse and tucks her hand inside. “While I don’t have the hope you do, maybe I can help. I’ve been watching Lady Harrow for years. She kills everything she touches.”
My attention sharpens. “You’ve noticed?”
“I started paying attention while Lucian was still alive,” Olivia explains. “I’d see her whispering with certain people at gatherings, planting seeds, creating alliances and enemies behind Lucian’s back. After Lucian died, I watched her work on Julian. I didn’t always hear what she was saying, but she’s been like a devil whispering in his ear.”
“No one else seemed to see it.”
“They see what they want to see. Julian’s erratic behavior, his descent into violence and paranoia—most people blame the stress of leadership or his father’s influence. They don’t recognize his mother’shand in his destruction.” She withdraws a small piece of paper from her purse, pressing it into my palm. “My private number. Call me if you need anything. Information, assistance, or just someone to talk to who understands what you’re dealing with.”
“Thank you.”
After Olivia leaves, I retreat to my room with my head spinning from the unexpected encounter. I grab my diary from its hiding place and turn to the page with my hit list.
I cross out Olivia’s name. Then I tear out the page and rip it up. My quest for revenge had been more about my own pain than honoring my mother’s memory. The killings hadn’t brought peace or healing, only more emptiness and guilt. But after being shown such immense compassion from someone who had every right to hate me, I’m done with it. No more revenge. Even against Lady Harrow.
I have faith she’ll get what she deserves one way or another.
My new focus is simply freedom.
Hope.
I look out my window at the garden where I’d found an unexpected ally in the most unlikely person. Olivia Marlowe—sister of my victim, member of the Consortium elite, survivor of a world that crushes everything beautiful—had chosen compassion over vengeance. It gives me hope that redemption might be possible for all of us, even in the darkest corners of our twisted world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
AURELIA
The hallway stretches in front of me like a dark throat, ready to swallow my breath. I’m trembling and my pulse is thundering, but I finally get to see Adrian again. Valentine’s note read:Ten minutes.Ten minutes isn’t enough time to deliver news that will tear Adrian apart from the inside out, but that’s all I have.
