hapter 87
Later, a knock came. Two police detectives stood in my living room, their expressions serious but respectful.
“Ms. Whitmore,” one said gently. “We need to inform you of an
update regarding Chole Windsor.”
My pulse tightened. “What about her?”
The detective swallowed. “She collapsed yesterday in custody,
was taken to Central Medical Hospital. Her condition is stable
but considered critical. Her lawyer has just applied for medical
parole pending further evaluation.””
My throat seized. Parole. Medical. In custody.
“Medical parole means she could be… released temporarily–for
treatment,” the other detective explained. “We thought you
should be told before it becomes public.”
I sat frozen for a moment, processing. Part of me whispered
relief–a flash of dread that she might be freed. Another part
bristled with guilt, because in a way, this felt like vindication.
But the stakes remained high.
“Thank you for telling me,” I managed. “If anything changes…
please let me know.”
Chapter 87
They nodded, sliding me a business card. “We will. Take care of
yourself.”
Once they left, Ava turned to me, eyebrows knitted with
concern. “Olivia… are you okay?”
I exhaled slowly. “She… Chole’s lawyer applied for medical
parole.” My voice was soft. “That could bring her out of custody.
Back into my life. Into the public.”
Ava’s hand found mine. “We’ll handle it,” she said firmly. “We’ll
fight it.”
I nodded, appreciating her strength but feeling heavier than I
cared to admit. This resolution of mine–this divorce–was
meant to bring closure. But now a new threat lingered. And
despite everything, I felt a flicker of old fear, old vulnerability.
“I’m tired, Ava,” I admitted. “Tonight, I just want to rest.“‘
She nodded and poured me another cup of tea. Together, we sat
in quiet solidarity, steeped in lamplight and lingering
uncertainty.
I touched the divorce papers in my bag again. They felt familiar
now–symbols of a life untethered. But Chole’s possible release
stirred fresh tension. I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion
weigh me down.
For now… I simply sat, letting the exhaustion and the relief
Chapter 87
coexist, settled by the muted hum of night.
Author’s POV
Felix Windsor sat heavily in the hospital waiting room, his
brow furrowed and palms clenched. His mind raced with the
divorce. Me… Ethan still has no intention to marry anyone.
Especially not after everything. You hurt Olivia. That’s not something… that’s not the path to reconciliation.” His voice
softened. “And besides, you’re not well enough to go anywhere
right now.”
Chole’s lips curved into a determined grin. “That’s nonsense. He
loves me. You’ll see!”
As she tried to sit up, her body gave way and she collapsed back
against the pillows. Monitors beeped softly, and the nurse
stepped forward–but Chole waved her off.
Felix hastened to support her. “Don’t push yourself, Chole. Let
the doctors do their work, and maybe think things through.”
“I DON’T WANT tothink,” Chole insisted, voice crackling with
fervor. “I want him. This is the opportunity. I know he needs
me.”
Felix froze. He tried to soften his tone. “He needs support, yes-
Chapter 87
but you’ve crossed a line. You nearly killed Olivia. There’s blood on your hands, sister. There’s risk: criminal charges, media
backlash. Anyone with a brain can see it.”
Chole’s laugh was hollow but intense. “They’ll all be silent when Ethan shows up, promising marriage. Then everything flips.”
“Buthe’s not going to do that.He said so himself!” Felix shook his head. “You’re hallucinating. The world you’re describing does
not exist.”
Chole’s eyes gleamed, wide and unblinking. “I saw his face when
Ava recorded. He’s torn. He loves me… he’ll do it.”

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