You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 809

If it hadn’t been for Jaxon’s mess, would he have ended up with blood on his hands tonight?

If there hadn’t been blood, would Patricia have gotten sick?

Did that couple really think they had the right to accuse him after everything?

Oliver showered faster than he ever had in his life, barely more than a blur as he grabbed a bottle of body wash with barely any scent.

When he came back, Selara was just finishing up with Patricia, gently tucking the covers around her.

She saw Oliver and moved aside, about to say something, but one look from Jaxon made her swallow her words.

“Call us if you need anything,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Selara.”

“We’re family. No need to thank me. Besides, we’ve caused you plenty of headaches too.” Sara and Colton had been with him for ages, and they definitely weren’t easy to handle.

Once everyone left the bedroom, Oliver climbed into bed from the other side and gently pulled Patricia into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.

“Mm,” she mumbled, sounding tired and washed out.

Morning sickness had left her completely drained, and the woman who’d been so alert earlier was now out like a light. She fell asleep almost instantly.

That night, a blizzard buried Riverdale.

By morning, Cloud Peak was covered in white, the snow sparkling on the mountains, sometimes disturbed by a few birds flying past.

Inside, the heat was cranked up high.

When Patricia woke up, Oliver was already gone.

She pushed herself up, sat there in a daze for a minute, then reached for her phone.

Jackson had tried calling, and there were a few messages waiting.

She tapped open the texts and saw the first one right away. Miss, Dylan is dead.

Her heart stumbled in her chest.

That morning, Riverdale was buried in white, the snow so cold it made the back of your neck ache.

He’d just walked out his door, still deciding whether to take the subway or drive, when Mr. Padilla called. His voice was rushed, rattling off a list of tasks that seemed endless.

Lincoln pulled up a map on his phone, checking distances and figuring out the best route.

Golden Bay never saw snow.

But last night, it felt like Riverdale’s storm had somehow found its way there.

It was unsettling.

That morning, the Golden Bay tabloids were already running their front page stories, fearless as ever.

The headlines were impossible to miss. Padilla Family’s Third Daughter-in-Law Linked to Murder, Socialite on the Brink of Divorce.

Oliver Padilla’s Good Name in Ruins, Marries a Murderer.

The Golden Bay press never held back. They’d print anything, no matter how wild.