His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 162: Olive's Pov

I blinked at the question. "Excuse me?"

"Were you compatible?" Detective Harrison repeated. "Did the date go well?"

"It was fine at first," I said honestly. "But then he started talking about my brother, Klaus, who died thirteen years ago. It made me uncomfortable, so I left."

"What did he say about your brother?"

My throat went tight.

This was it. The moment where I had to decide how much to reveal.

Richard's hand touched my arm gently. A reminder that I didn't have to answer anything that felt like a trap.

"He said he knew Klaus," I said carefully. "That they'd met years ago. It surprised me because I didn't know they knew each other."

"And that upset you?"

"It caught me off guard," I corrected. "My brother's death is still difficult for me to talk about. So yes, it made me uncomfortable."

Detective Harrison nodded, writing something down.

"What time did you leave the restaurant?"

"Around nine-thirty."

"And where did you go?"

"Home. To my apartment."

"Did you see Mr. Byron again after you left the restaurant?"

"No."

"Did you communicate with him in any way? Text? Call? Email?"

"No."

"Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Mr. Byron?"

The question caught me off guard.

"No. Like I said, I hadn't seen him in five years until last night."

Detective Harrison leaned back in his chair, studying me.

"Miss Monroe, Mr. Byron was found dead in his hotel room at approximately three AM this morning. Preliminary findings suggest foul play."

Foul play.

Not a heart attack. Not an accident.

Someone had killed him.

"The security footage from Luiz de Vont shows you leaving the restaurant at nine forty-three PM, visibly upset. You were one of the last people to see Mr. Byron alive. Can you think of any reason why someone would want him dead?"

I shook my head, my heart pounding. "No. I barely knew him."

"But you knew him well enough to go to dinner with him."

"My mother set it up," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I went because she asked me to. I didn't even want to be there."

"Then why did you stay for nearly two hours?"

"Because I was trying to be polite!" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Because my mother had gone to the trouble of setting it up and I didn't want to be rude."

Richard's hand on my arm tightened slightly. A warning to stay calm.

I took a breath.

"I'm sorry," I said. "This is just a lot to process. I had dinner with someone I used to know, and now he's dead. And you're treating me like I had something to do with it."

"I'm not treating you like anything, Miss Monroe," Detective Harrison said evenly. "I'm gathering information. Trying to build a timeline of Mr. Byron's last hours."

"Then let me be clear," I said, meeting his eyes. "I went to dinner. We talked. I left. I went home. That's it. I didn't see him again. I didn't hurt him. And I have no idea who did."

Detective Harrison studied me for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Monroe. If we have additional questions, we'll be in touch."

He stood, effectively ending the interview.

Richard stood as well, and I followed his lead on shaking legs.

"My client is happy to cooperate with your investigation," Richard said smoothly. "But any future questions should go through me first."

"Understood."

We walked out of that room, down the corridor, through the lobby, and out into the parking lot before I allowed myself to breathe.

The second we were outside, my knees gave out.

Zane caught me before I hit the ground, his arms wrapping around me and holding me upright.

"I've got you," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you."

And for the first time since that phone call, I let myself break.