You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 442

Atticus was already in a bad mood, all riled up because Oliver kept hovering around his niece and he had nowhere to let off steam. So of course, just Oliver’s luck, Colton crossed his path at the worst possible moment.

Colton ended up as Atticus’s punching bag, taking all the heat and coming out the other side with a reputation for being the latest target. Meanwhile, Oliver got exactly what he wanted: Atticus’s temper burned out, Colton took the fall, and Oliver kept his hands clean. It was a win-win-win.

“What’s on your mind?” Patricia pressed, curiosity written all over her face.

Oliver was quiet for a second, then let out a dry laugh. “Honestly? I’m over it. Day in, day out, playing uncle and dad to those three. It’s exhausting.”

Since he’d already admitted he was fed up, Patricia didn’t dare push further. They dropped the subject and didn’t bring up the three troublemakers again, not through dinner or afterward.

After the meal, while they were walking off their food in the garden at Cloud Peak, they chatted about other things. Patricia idly plucked a leaf from a tree and twirled it between her fingers.

Out of nowhere, Oliver asked, “Is it true you dug up the Newton family’s ancestral grave?”

Patricia’s response was immediate. “Who told you that?”

She realized her tone was too sharp, so she softened a little. “If you’ve heard about it, does that mean everyone knows?”

Mr. Padilla nodded. “Pretty much.”

Patricia kept playing with the leaf, sounding almost amused. “Well, isn’t that something.”

Looks like the rumor mill worked faster than any real trouble.

“Did you scatter the ashes?” he asked.

Patricia blinked, all innocence. “Of course not!”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued.

Patricia dropped the leaf, wrapped both arms around his, and gazed up with a sweet smile. “You really want to know?”

Mr. Padilla nodded, totally sincere. “I do.”

She grinned, milking the moment. “Then beg me.”

At nine o’clock, Tina landed at Riverdale International Airport.

She tried calling Emerson four or five times but got nothing. So she grabbed a cab and headed home by herself.

After a shower, she came downstairs in her pajamas, just as Emerson walked in with his briefcase.

“Where were you? I called you a bunch of times and you didn’t answer.”

Emerson looked surprised to see her, pausing for a second before replying, “I was talking with someone. It wasn’t a good time to pick up. When did you get back?”

“My flight landed at nine. Didn’t you see my message?”

Tina moved closer, took his coat from him, and as she went to hang it up, she caught a faint whiff of perfume. It was fresh and light—the kind of scent a young woman would wear.

She swallowed her shock and tried to sound casual. “So, who were you meeting with tonight?”