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“Was a complete bitch to me? Yes.”
She didn’t know how to feel.
“Steph was a mean girl, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered,” Aria expressed.
“Of course not, darling.” Natalie frowned. “I hope they catch the person who did this. What a sicko.”
Evan set his coffee on the table and hugged his niece. “I’m here if you need to talk about it, love.”
“Thanks. I’m just in shock more than anything,” she replied, noticing the gauze wrapped around his forearm. “Did you injure yourself at work?”
Sitting down, Evan glanced at his arm. “Baxter went kind of bonkers this morning. I was trying to get him out of his litter box because he had been crouching in it since last night. He scratched me badly when I picked him up. I figured he was sick, so I took him to the vet before coming here.”
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Natalie.
“He’s got a clean bill of health, so the only conclusion she made was that he’s anxious about something. It’s probably because I had my friend’s dog stay with me the other day. I was looking after him for the night.”
“I pray Baxter will be okay,” Aria said. “Did you at least disinfect the scratches?”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” He smiled reassuringly.
“I need to make a phone call.” Natalie stood up and took her cellphone out of her purse. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time. Your daughter’s in excellent hands.”
“I hate feeling so tired,” said Aria.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
“But I don’t want to sleep.”
“You’ll feel better when you wake up,” he encouraged, stroking her hand until she finally closed her eyes.
??
Almost fifteen minutes had passed when Natalie returned and asked Evan if he could stay with her daughter for an hour, which he was more than happy to do. She needed to have a private conversation with her husband.
The television was distracting, even though it was set on a low volume. Flipping through channels, Evan noticed that most of the news networks were covering the murder case of Stephanie Cohen. He switched it off and stared at his niece while she slept. His brown eyes cascaded from her face to her neck as he fixed his gaze on the necklace he gave her. He liked that she was wearing it. His blood was inside of that pendant, and Aria did not know.
Smiling darkly to himself, Evan leaned into her ear and whispered, “I will kill anyone who hurts you, because I love you, and I know you love me, too. You don’t know it yet… but you will… soon.”
Pulling back, he stared at her sensuous mouth. Temptation got the best of him as he edged closer and grazed his lips against hers, leaving the softest kiss. Being affectionate was foreign to him; normally, he’d kiss other women roughly. However, he enjoyed that moment of stolen intimacy and tried to control himself before he kissed her again.
Slipping his hand into Aria’s, he softly whispered, “I am so in love with you. If you only knew to what depth…”
His sleeping goddess stirred as she mumbled, “Mmm… I love you… Noah.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Origins
George and Olivia Hunter were a successful power couple. Living in New Castle, New Hampshire, they lived in a beautiful mansion on a large, gated property. From the beginning of their marriage, their life had been lavish and comfortable, but unlike Olivia, George had not been born into money. Being an only child, with no living relatives, he was the last living Hunter to extend the generation. George had gained his wealth through a dedicated work ethic, starting from the bottom and building his way to the top. By the time he was twenty-four, he had made many investments that had made him a vast amount of wealth. George Hunter was an ambitious, self-made multi-millionaire who had attained the American dream.
Olivia Blackwood had a privileged upbringing, being raised in an upper-class family. Her father was American and her mother was of British descent. Ever since she was six years old, Olivia dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer. She had trained vigorously through her adolescent years, hoping to join the Imperial School of Ballet in St. Petersburg. She wanted to travel the world and dance for a living, and that hadn’t changed when she fell in love with George and married him at nineteen.There was a six-year age difference between the pair. Even though Olivia had married young, her parents had approved of the union, knowing she would be taken care of. George had promised to support Olivia’s endeavors before she had agreed to marry him, but her ballerina dreams were only to be abandoned after she injured her ankle and was told she would never dance again.
Devastated by the news, Olivia focused her efforts on starting a family. She got pregnant with their first child before she miscarried and got pregnant again… miscarrying once more. The poor woman had four miscarriages before Isaac, Breanne, and Noah were born. George had wanted to fill his home with children, but Olivia was satisfied with three. What he hadn’t expected was Olivia’s postpartum depression. She was diagnosed after Noah was born.
As the children grew, Olivia occupied her time with interior design, organizing parties and charity events. Her mother had never nurtured her with love, so that same style of parenting continued with her own children. She felt emotionally distant from them. Despite her husband’s efforts to help, Olivia could never bond with her children. She often felt guilty for not being emotionally involved during their primary stages of life. Isaac, Breanne, and Noah were raised by nannies, and Olivia’s first two children were sent to boarding school by the time they were twelve. Her guilt had caused her to consider adoption and start her road to redemption. But more than anything, Olivia feared she would slip back into depression if she adopted an infant. She preferred to adopt a toddler: a child that had already passed the diaper changing, bottle feeding, and incessant crying stage. Gender was not of importance. All she wanted was to connect with a child and offer them a better life.
