Chapter 139

Olivia

The sun hung low, its weak rays straining through a thick blanket of gray clouds. It seemed as though even the heavens mourned the day.

The vast expanse of the cemetery was dotted with mourners, their dark clothes contrasting starkly with the vibrantly green grass.

It was strangely warm out for a spring day, and muggy as the clouds threatened to burst forth with rain. A stray gnat, awoken too early for the season, buzzed around my head and persisted despite my swatting.

But at that moment, none of it mattered to me. Not the cold breeze that swept my hair, not the looming gravestone, and not even the soft murmurs of condolences that buzzed around.

All that mattered was Nathan.

His shoulders, slumped with sorrow, sagged even more under the weight of the loss. He stood silently, eyes fixed on the ground, his face drained of any color. The priest’s words fell on deaf ears for most of us. The ache in my heart was almost unbearable, seeing him like this.

Nathan had hardly spoken a word to me since the news of his mother’s death. The ‘monster’ sightings ceased entirely, but neither of us said a single thing about it. Nor did we talk about my aunt’s secret library or our discoveries about Colin and this ‘Edward’ person.

The villa became shrouded with misery, and all I could do now as we watched the dirt pile higher onto the top of Maria’s coffin was put my arm around Nathan’s shoulder and let him lean a little of his weight on me.

But while my heart was consumed by Nathan’s pain, my eyes caught something else—something that made me sick to my stomach, because I already knew the implications.

To the side stood Jen and Colin.

Instead of the expected sorrow, their demeanor was off. I noticed how close Jen stood next to Colin, a closeness that seemed inappropriate for a sister-in-law.

The real sickening part was Colin's arm; it was wrapped around the crook of Jen’s waist, but not in a comforting manner. It was almost... possessive.

It had been over a week since the news was broken, but I was instantly reminded of Maria’s frantic voicemail.

He had to have been involved. I was sure of it. Jenifer possibly was, too. But for now, I couldn’t move forward with the investigation. It was Nathan’s call now, and he was grieving. Our discoveries were left at a standstill.

I caught snippets of Jenifer and Colin’s conversation. Their voices, though low, seemed to me to lack genuine grief.

It was almost as if they were trying too hard to sound devastated, their reactions feeling more rehearsed than real. The seed of suspicion, which had already planted itself in my mind, grew more and began to flower.

But then I looked back at Nathan, tears rolling down his face, and decided now was not the time. If something was amiss, it could wait. Nathan needed support, not more turmoil.

And besides, I was on edge around Colin because of my father. Maybe I was reading too much into things.

The priest’s words drew to a close, and a haunting silence took over. One by one, mourners paid their respects and made their way out. Nathan and I followed suit, heading towards Colin’s house where a small gathering was organized.

Colin’s house was a stark contrast to the gloomy cemetery. Lavishly decorated, it bore the signs of a man with expensive tastes. We were ushered into the grand living room, where soft music played in the background and refreshments were served.

Most tried to engage in hushed conversations, reminiscing about Maria or trying to distract from the gloom.

I had just picked up a glass of water when a chilling sensation swept over me. The feeling of being watched.

I glanced around and finally looked up. There, at the top of the grand staircase, stood Jen. Her eyes bore into mine, and a smug smile played on her lips. There was no grief in her eyes, just a glint of mischief, or perhaps something darker.

Our gaze locked for a few seconds before she turned gracefully, her long dress trailing behind her, and disappeared down a hallway. What was that about? The uneasy feeling persisted, and I found myself more on edge than ever.

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling.

“Olivia,” a soft voice murmured beside me. I turned to find Nathan's aunt, Aunt Eleanor. Maria’s half-sister.

She was an old woman, with wrinkles that told tales of years gone by and eyes that had seen more than most. “It’s a difficult day for all of us,” she whispered, her gaze sharp yet filled with sorrow.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, not sure what to add.

She sighed, “Maria was a good woman. She had her struggles, but she loved her family. And Nathan…” Her voice broke a little. “He meant the world to her.”

I nodded, fighting back my tears. “He's devastated,” I whispered.

Eleanor leaned closer, her voice dropping even lower. “Keep an eye on him, dear. And be careful. There's more going on here than meets the eye.”

Her cryptic words sent a shiver down my spine. What did she mean? Before I could question her, she patted my hand gently and moved away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

The evening dragged on, but the feeling of unease didn't leave me. Nathan and I stayed close, offering each other silent comfort.

Every now and then, my gaze would drift towards Colin and Jen. Their interactions seemed far too intimate for an adoptive daughter and father. Whispers, shared glances, and subtle touches.

But who was I to judge? Grief did strange things to people.

However, the image of Jen at the top of the stairs, that mysterious smile, stayed with me. What was she playing at?

Hours later, as the gathering started to thin out, Nathan and I prepared to leave. He looked drained, both emotionally and physically.

“Wait here,” he said, squeezing my arm as we stood in the foyer. “I just need to do something quickly. Give me five minutes.”

I nodded. “Take all of the time you need,” I murmured, managing a weak smile through the tears. I watched as Nathan disappeared into another room.

For a few moments, I stood there in the waning light of the foyer, looking up at a large painting of his mother that hung on the wall.

It had been there the last time I was inside this house, but I never noticed it. It used to hang over the fireplace in the parlor, but was now replaced by a sultry portrait of Jenifer.

Now, it seemed to loom over me like a heavy, dark cloud. Maria’s icy eyes bore down on me, drilling holes into my skull.

I swallowed nervously and quickly looked away, feeling as though she was inside that painting and actually looking down at me.

But then, something else caught my eye. A flash of fabric at the top of the stairs. A thin, pale hand releasing its grip from the banister. A pair of abnormally large, bulging eyes. A soft laugh.

I was intrigued. I knew it was Jenifer, and I knew that she was always a bit strange, but my image of her from earlier that day piqued my curiosity. I almost felt as though she was beckoning for me to follow.

As the sound of her bare feet padding across the floor echoed softly away, I found myself drawn to the bottom of the stairs.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I took the first step.