Weeks passed.
Diana called with updates. Dead ends. False leads. Traces of a man who'd learned to disappear.
"Marcus Webb is good," she said during one call. "Whoever buried him knew what they were doing. Every path I follow dead-ends eventually."
"But you're making progress?"
"Slowly. He left a trail. A small one. But it's there." A pause. "I'll find him, Olivia. I promise."
I hung up and stared at the city.
I threw myself into work.
The Calloway deal closed successfully. The Morrison acquisition followed. My reputation grew. People at Kane Capital started looking at me differently—not as Declan's wife, but as someone who deserved her position.
Declan watched me carefully. He didn't push. Just stayed close. Present.
One night, I found him on the balcony, staring at the city.
"Hey."
He turned. "Hey yourself."
"Thinking?"
"Always." He opened his arms. I stepped into them.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You. Us. How strange it is that I spent my whole life alone and now I can't imagine a single day without you."
"Strange good or strange bad?"
"Strange perfect." He kissed my hair. "Whatever happens with Webb, we'll handle it. Together."
"I know."
"And Olivia?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you need when we find him space, support, someone to hold your hand I'm here."
I looked up at him. At this man who'd started as a contract and become everything.
"I know," I said. "That's why I love you."
My mother came for dinner that weekend.
She'd become a regular presence in our lives. Sunday dinners. Random visits. She and Declan had developed a bond I hadn't expected—she taught him recipes, he taught her about wine, they argued about politics like old friends.
"How's the search going?" she asked over dumplings.
"Slow. Diana is doing everything she can."
She nodded. "Your father would be proud of you."
"You think so?"
"I know so." She reached across the table, took my hand. "He always said you were the strongest person he knew. Stronger than him. Stronger than me." Her eyes filled. "He was right."
I squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Mom."
Declan watched us, something soft in his eyes.
Later, after she left, he pulled me close.
"Your mother is amazing."
"I know."
"I'm glad she's mine now too."
I kissed him. "She's always been yours. She just didn't know it yet."
The waiting was the hardest part.
Days bled into weeks. Weeks into a month. Every time the phone rang, my heart stopped. Every time it wasn't Diana, the disappointment settled deeper.
Declan found ways to distract me. Weekends away. Long dinners. Nights spent talking about everything except the one thing consuming my thoughts.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted one night. "The waiting. The not knowing."
"You just do." He held me close. "One day at a time. One hour at a time if you have to."
"And if we never find him?"
"Then we keep living. We keep loving. We keep building this life together." He kissed my forehead. "Your father's justice matters. But so does this. So do we."
I cried then. Not sad tears. Something else.
"I love you."
"I love you too. Always."