Inside the Newton family’s villa
Theo hung up the phone and set it aside. He opened a drawer and took out a photo—a white shirt, red background. Funny, when he thought about it. Three years of marriage, and this was the only picture he had with Patricia, and even that was just a cropped shot from their marriage certificate.
That woman. She really knew how to play the long game. Cold-hearted, every step calculated, right up to the end. The whole “one day as husband and wife, a hundred days of kindness” thing—Patricia never believed in that.
Theo’s fingers brushed over her face in the picture. If you looked closely, you’d see the longing in his eyes, just waiting to spill out. But only for a second. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling vanish, then tossed the photo back in the drawer and slammed it shut.
Winter in Riverdale was unpredictable, especially when it dragged into early spring. The rain never seemed to stop, leaving everything cold and damp. Patricia hated it. Oliver did too.
Before he got married, Oliver kind of liked rainy days. They were quiet and helped him calm down. But after the wedding, rainy days just made him think about Patricia’s injured leg. He worried she was in pain—he hated it.
Downstairs, Oliver stood by the big windows in the tearoom, fiddling with an unlit cigar. Hector was behind him, making tea and checking his watch for what felt like the millionth time. Oliver was so quiet, he might as well have been meditating.
Hector couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to say something or not? I’m about to burst from all this tea.”
“If a silent guy like you can get married, your ancestors must be doing overtime up there. Seriously, if you don’t talk, I’m out. I’ve wasted my whole afternoon here and I still have to work for you rich guys tonight.”
“It’s time to deal with Sean,” Oliver finally said.
Hector’s complaints died on his lips. He spun around to look at Oliver, then noticed tea spilling on the table. In a rush, he grabbed some napkins and soaked it up before it hit the floor.


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