Richard’s face changed instantly. Afraid I’d learn the truth, he jabbed a finger at Lucy and shouted:
“How much did Olivia pay you to spew nonsense here? Believe it or not, I’ll make sure you can’t find work in New York again!”
Startled, Lucy stepped back and flashed me a quick, apologetic gesture—
then security, summoned by Bella, led her away.
Rattled and guilty, Richard didn’t dare keep me there; he kicked me out of the Company and told security never to let me in again without his approval.
By then, he had conveniently forgotten his claim that I’d “kidnapped” his dad.
Back home packing my things, I suddenly received several videos and audio files.
When I finished watching, a chill spread through me.
Blazing with anger, I called Richard again and again.
After a dozen rings, he finally answered—over the splash of water and breathy laughter.
My questions sank without a trace.
Moments later, Richard’s hoarse whisper came:
“Baby, you’re getting better at this…”
“Richard, be gentle… I thought we were done for today. I was scared we’d end up as doomed lovers…”
“Idiot. Together, we’re unstoppable—how could anything go wrong?”
“Olivia’s dad was tough, that’s all. Wouldn’t die from a beating—had to burn him to finish the job. Those families were so stupid—easy to manipulate! All told, we made a tidy profit!”
Calling a man killed by his own son “tough”?
Richard’s cold-bloodedness froze me to the bone.
It also confirmed the recordings were real.
That beast had sold out his own father.
Otherwise, he’d have realized by now who the dead man was.
Right after I hung up, a strange number rang.
“Ms. Scott, did you see what I sent? Mr. Johnson said he wanted to ‘make full use’ of your father-in-law. Please call the Police Department—but don’t say the evidence came from me. I don’t want to die…”
Lucy had already been fired; risking herself to send me evidence was more than enough. I wouldn’t drag her further into this.
I’d thank her properly when all this was over.
I called the police at once to trace George’s remains.
A night passed with no news.
I went with the officers to confront Richard. He insisted the body had already been cremated and even produced an urn to fob me off.
I refused to take it and stared him down, word by word:
“Richard, do you think it’s fun to deceive me? To desecrate your own father’s remains? Do you know how many crimes you’ve racked up?”
Enraged, Richard smashed the urn on the floor.
“Olivia! I kindly took care of your father’s funeral, and this is how you repay me?”
He stormed out.
With no remains located, the police could only pause the case.
I pulled strings and finally tracked the route of a black mortuary van that left the Company’s underground garage that day.
Surveillance showed it ultimately arrived at an unlicensed private Crematorium in a neighboring city.
Acrid incense smoke choked the hallway.
Richard, arm around Bella’s waist, grinned from ear to ear.
“My Bella is the smart one—what a perfect solution! Saved on funeral costs and brought in some payout money. You’re my little good-luck charm!”
I stared, eyes burning, at the body on the platform—dressed in red—until my tears broke free.
“Richard! Are you even human? That’s your father!”
Caught red-handed, he flinched—then quickly grew self-righteous.
“Olivia, what nonsense! How could that ugly thing be your dad?”
