“I smoke too, so who am I to call you out, huh?”
Oliver held her face gently in his hands, their foreheads touching. His voice was soft, almost like he was comforting a child. “It’s not about blaming you. I just hate what you had to go through.”
She used to be the pride of Riverdale—everyone wanted to be her.
Jason had been the first tech star of their generation, building his company into a powerhouse almost overnight.
If he hadn’t died, Patricia would have ruled Riverdale, living the dream, getting everything she wanted.
But that same spoiled, adored Miss had been pushed to the edge.
Pushed until her leg was shattered. Pushed to making deals with the worst people. Pushed until all she could think about was revenge.
Sara, just a few years younger, only cared about food, shopping, having fun.
But Patricia? Every day, she woke up thinking about how to take down her enemies herself.
It was heartbreaking, really.
“Let’s go eat,” Oliver said.
Downstairs at the table, the three kids ate in silence, heads down, not even daring to look up.
Patricia barely touched her food, completely lost in her thoughts.
After setting down her fork, Sara stood up to go feed the cat.
Patricia followed her outside.
They wandered into the backyard, chatting here and there.
“Aunt Patricia, you’re incredible. Uncle Oliver was so mad, and you still managed to calm him down,” Sara said.
“I didn’t calm him down.”
“Yeah, right.” Sara snorted. “That man is impossible. He’s like a rock that’s been sitting in the mud forever—stubborn and impossible to deal with.”
Like he’d just chill out on his own? No way.
But honestly, Patricia thought Oliver really could just get over things by himself.
When he first smelled the smoke on her, he’d been angry.
But somehow, he just… wasn’t, after a moment.
Patricia glanced at Sara, who was crouched in the garden playing with the cat.


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