A pause. Then, her voice dropped into a cruel whisper.
“She doesn’t know, does she? That it was me behind the wheel that night?”
My entire body turned to ice.
“No,” Marco said sharply. “And she never will.”
Selena tsked. “You’re so tense. You should be grateful. I took care of the problem for you.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth, bile rising in my throat.
Problem?
She called my daughter’s death a problem?
Marco exhaled harshly. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“Oh, spare me,” Selena sneered. “She ran into the street. What was I supposed to do? Swerve and crash my car?”
“She was a child!” Marco hissed.
“And now she’s gone,” she said smoothly. “And that means Olivia will finally stop being so obsessed with her perfect little world and realize she never really mattered to you. I do.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“I covered for you,” Marco said, voice strained. “I made sure no one traced that car back to you. You should be grateful.”
“I am,” Selena murmured. “So why don’t we celebrate?”
The sound of a zipper. A breathy laugh.
I turned and fled, silent tears streaming down my face.
My daughter wasn’t just gone.
She was murdered.
And my husband had been sleeping with her killer all along.