His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 166: Olive's Pov

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her she couldn't have known this would happen, that nobody could have predicted someone would murder Judy hours after our dinner.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because part of me wondered if she was right. If my going to that dinner had somehow triggered whatever got Judy killed.

"I just wanted you to be happy," Mom said, her voice getting quieter now, defeated in a way that made my chest ache. "I wanted you to move on from Zane. To find someone safe and normal who wouldn't break your heart or drag you into dangerous situations or—"

"And now he's dead," I finished for her.

Silence.

Heavy and suffocating and filled with all the things neither of us wanted to say.

"I'm so sorry, Peach." Mom's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe. "I know, Mom. I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Michelle is planning the funeral," she said after a long pause. "This weekend. Saturday at two. Small service. Just family and close friends. She asked if you would come."

My heart stopped beating for a second. "What?"

"She wants you there. She said Judy talked about you after the dinner. Called her before he—before it happened. Told her he'd had a good time. That you were just as smart and beautiful as he remembered from years ago."

The words hit me hard, knocking whatever air I'd managed to get back straight out of my lungs again.

Judy had called his mother after our dinner. Had told her he enjoyed himself. Had talked about me like maybe there could have been something there if circumstances had been different.

And hours later, someone killed him.

"I don't think I should go," I said, my voice coming out smaller than I intended. "It would be inappropriate. I barely knew him, Mom. Showing up at his funeral when people might think I had something to do with his death—"

"Michelle specifically asked for you," Mom interrupted gently. "She doesn't blame you, Peach. None of this is your fault. She knows that."

"But other people might not see it that way." My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. "Other people might see me there and think I'm some kind of monster who's showing up to gloat or—"

"Then let them think what they want," Mom said, and there was suddenly steel in her voice, that particular tone she used when she'd made up her mind about something and wasn't going to budge. "You didn't do anything wrong. You went to dinner with a kind man who tragically died afterward. That's it. And if his mother wants you at his funeral to say goodbye, then you should be there. You owe her that much at least."

I sat there in silence, my mind racing through all the ways this could go wrong.

Going to Judy's funeral felt dangerous. Felt like putting myself in a room full of people who might blame me for his death, who might look at me and see a murderer instead of just a woman who'd had bad timing.

But not going felt worse somehow. Felt like running away. Like admitting I had something to hide when I didn't.

"When is it?" I asked finally.

"Saturday. Two PM. I'll text you the address."

Saturday. Five days away.

Five days to prepare myself for walking into a church full of people who might hate me.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll go."

"Thank you, Peach." Relief flooded her voice so completely I could practically hear her sagging against whatever she was leaning on. "And Olive? I really am sorry. For all of this. For pushing you into that dinner. For thinking I knew what was best when clearly I didn't."

"It's okay, Mom."

"No, it's not." She took a shaky breath. "But I'm going to make it right somehow. I don't know how yet, but I will."

We said our goodbyes and I ended the call, then just sat there staring at nothing in particular, trying to process everything that had just happened.

Judy's funeral. Saturday.

The same weekend I was supposed to be finalizing the third candidate selection for the Quantum AI campaign, proving to everyone that I deserved to be here, that I belonged in this world.

Instead, I'd be at a funeral for a man I barely knew. A man who'd died hours after telling me things about Klaus that I still didn't understand.

My phone buzzed again, and this time when I looked at the screen, my entire body went cold.

A text from an unknown number.

Unknown: You should be more careful about who you have dinner with. People who know too much tend to die. Stay away from things that don't concern you, or you'll be next.