Diana's call came at 6:47 AM.
I was half-asleep, tangled in Declan's arms, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.
Declan groaned. "Who calls at 6 AM?"
I grabbed the phone. Diana's name on the screen.
"It's her."
I was awake instantly.
"Hello?"
"I found him." Diana's voice was steady, but I could hear the satisfaction underneath. "Marcus Webb. Living in a small town in Oregon. Changed his name to Robert Chen—ironic, I know. Married. Two kids. Works at a local hardware store."
I couldn't breathe.
"Olivia? You there?"
"I'm here." My voice was barely a whisper. "You're sure?"
"Positive. Fingerprints match. Dental records match. It's him."
Declan sat up, watching me, reading my face.
"Where?" I asked.
"Small town called Ashland. Southern Oregon. Beautiful place, actually. He's been there fifteen years."
I wrote down the address. The details. Everything.
"When can you be here?" I asked.
"I'm already on my way. Flight lands at noon. We can talk then."
I hung up and stared at the wall.
Declan pulled me close. "You okay?"
"I don't know." I leaned into him. "I don't know what I feel."
"Whatever it is, it's valid." He kissed my hair. "We'll figure it out together."
Diana arrived at 12:30.
We gathered in the living room, documents spread across the coffee table. She walked us through everything the investigation, the confirmation, the life Marcus Webb had built.
"He's not hiding anymore," Diana said. "He thinks he's safe. Thinks the past is buried."
"But it's not."
"No." She looked at me. "The question is, what do you want to do about it?"
I was quiet for a long moment.
"I need to see him."
"Olivia—" Declan started.
"I need to look him in the eye. I need him to know who I am. I need him to know that my father's daughter is alive and that she didn't stop."
Diana nodded slowly. "I can arrange that. But you need to be prepared. He's not going to welcome you with open arms. He's spent fifteen years building a new life. A new identity. You showing up threatens all of that."
"I don't care."
"Good. You shouldn't." Diana smiled grimly. "When do you want to go?"
"Tomorrow."
---
Declan and I talked for hours that night.
About my father. About justice. About what I hoped to achieve by confronting Webb.
"I don't expect an apology," I said. "I don't expect him to suddenly confess and beg for forgiveness. I just need him to know. To see me. To understand that what he did had consequences that lasted."
"And if he doesn't care?"
"Then at least I tried." I looked at him. "I've spent my whole life carrying this. My father's death. The injustice of it. The weight of it. I need to put it down. Even if he gives me nothing."
Declan took my hands. "Then we go tomorrow. Together."
"Together."
We flew to Oregon the next morning.
Small plane to Medford. Rental car to Ashland. The town was beautiful—trees, mountains, a main street lined with shops and cafes. It felt like the kind of place people went to disappear.
Diana had arranged everything. A hotel room. A plan. A way to approach Webb without alerting him first.
"We'll watch him tomorrow," she said. "See his routine. Then you can decide how you want to handle it."
I nodded. Stared out the window at the mountains.
Declan's hand found mine. Squeezed.
"I'm here," he said.
"I know."
We watched him the next day.
Marcus Webb Robert Chen now worked at a hardware store on the main street. He arrived at 8 AM, unlocked the door, started his day like any other. Ordinary. Unremarkable.
He looked like any other man his age. Grey hair. Slight paunch. Kind face. The kind of man who helped old ladies load bags of potting soil into their cars.
It was hard to reconcile him with the photographs in my father's files. The younger man in the suit. The lawyer who'd helped destroy evidence. The man who'd protected a killer.
"That's him?" I whispered.
"That's him." Diana handed me binoculars. "Take your time."
I watched him for an hour. Helping customers. Laughing with coworkers. Living a life he had no right to live.
"What do you want to do?" Declan asked.
I thought about it. About my father. About the weight I'd carried for so long.
"I want to talk to him. Alone."
"Olivia"
"I need to do this myself." I looked at him. "But I need you close. In case"
"Always." He kissed my forehead. "I'll be right there."
I walked into the hardware store at 11 AM.
The bell above the door chimed. Webb looked up from behind the counter, smiled automatically.
"Welcome to Ashland Hardware. Let me know if you need anything."
I walked toward him. Slowly. Steadily.
"I'm not here for hardware."
His smile faltered. "Can I help you with something else?"
"Marcus Webb."
The color drained from his face.
"I know who you are. I know what you did." I stopped at the counter. "My name is Olivia Kane. My father was Daniel Blackwood."
He stared at me. Frozen.
"You helped Victor Cross cover up my father's murder. You helped him disappear. You helped him avoid justice for years."
"I don't I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." I pulled out a photograph. My father. Younger. Smiling. "This man. Daniel Blackwood. He was investigating Cross. He was about to expose everything. And Cross had him killed. You helped hide the evidence."
Webb's hands were shaking.
"I have proof. Documents. Statements. Everything." I met his eyes. "You've been in witness protection for fifteen years. New name. New life. New family. But the past doesn't disappear just because you pretend it doesn't exist."
"What do you want?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"I want you to know. To see me. To understand that what you did had consequences." My voice shook, but I kept going. "My father never got to see me graduate. Never got to walk me down the aisle. Never got to meet his grandchildren. He missed everything because of what you helped cover up."
Tears were streaming down my face. I didn't wipe them away.
"I don't expect you to confess. I don't expect you to apologize. I just needed you to know. To see me. To carry this the way I've carried it for thirty years."
I turned to leave.
"Wait."
I stopped.
"I'm sorry." His voice broke. "I know that doesn't matter. I know it doesn't change anything. But I'm sorry. Every day. For thirty years. I've been sorry."
I didn't turn around.
"It won't bring my father back."
"No. It won't." A pause. "But maybe it can help you let go."
I walked out of the store.
Declan was waiting across the street.
He took one look at my face and pulled me into his arms.
"You did it."
"I did it."
"How do you feel?"
"Empty. Full. Both." I held him tighter. "I don't know."
"That's okay." He kissed my hair. "That's more than okay."
We stood there for a long time, the mountains watching, the town going about its day.
"It's over," I whispered.
"It's over."
I looked up at him. At this man who'd started as a contract and become my partner in everything.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"For being here. For helping me. For loving me through all of this."
He cupped my face. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
I kissed him. Long and slow and full of everything.
"I love you, Declan Kane."
"I love you too, Olivia Kane. Forever."
"Forever sounds good."
"It does."