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CHAPTER THREE

Tyson went to get ready for the interview.

Just as he’d envisioned, Olivia had that wide Julia Roberts’ smile. When she laughed, the motion overtook her whole body, making everyone around her want to laugh also. She was known for her banter with her cameraman and crew. It made her relatable.

But that wasn’t what stayed on his mind right now.

No, he was thinking about the van he’d seen pass the street in front of his house as they spoke.

His home was located in the country, and not many people used his road. But that wasn’t what had made him concerned.

It was how slowly the vehicle had driven by.

Tyson knew he was probably just being paranoid.

But lately, he’d sensed someone was keeping an eye on him.

He’d gotten threatening messages. Phone calls, texts, emails.

He hadn’t expected so much resistance for this new school. But, despite his good intentions, some people were adamantly against it.

The tribal council was split.

Traditional elders had expressed concern that Tyson’s modern educational vision might not adequately preserve cultural teachings and language instruction. Despite his heritage, they saw him as somewhat of an outsider.

There was also lingering skepticism from previous failed projects where outside funding disappeared midway, leaving the community with unfinished buildings and broken promises.

The proposed location itself created controversy, as it bordered land some families claimed ancestral rights to, adding a complex layer of internal politics to the situation.

Even Tyson’s success had become a point of contention, with whispers that he was using the project to enhance his brand rather than genuinely serving the community. This gossip had created an emotional hurdle he had to overcome in order to gain full support.

However, perhaps his biggest hurdle was Frontier Resorts. They wanted to open another casino—on the very land where the school was being built. Another empty promise of prosperity that would leave most of the community behind.

Now, he was on edge.

He didn’t necessarily worry about himself. But he worried about everyone who worked for him.

He’d never want to do anything to put them in danger.

That made having Olivia and her crew here even more complicated.

He’d considered on more than one occasion whether or not he should cancel this extended interview.

But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d just upped his security measures.

He prayed that was enough.

Because this school was important to him. But people’s lives were even more important, and the school would help to improve those lives.

The tension his decisions created clashed inside him.

Tyson prayed again that he didn’t regret any of his choices.

* * *

After getting a tour of the house, Olivia dressed in black yoga pants and a matching tank top as she prepared for her first session with Tyson. After pulling her dark, straight hair into a neat ponytail, she was ready to go with five minutes to spare.

But first . . . she dug the nightlights out of her bag and plugged them in.

She hadn’t been able to handle the dark ever since . . . ever since her experience with The Admirer.

Even in his death, he still haunted her.

She’d found out after her escape that Brian Elliot had been forty-three. His eyes—the only part of his face Olivia had seen—were cold and assessing. They never seemed to blink enough.

More than a year later, Olivia still couldn’t look at flowers without seeing his eyes. Without hearing his voice explaining patiently: “Do you know what makes roses bloom so beautifully, Olivia? It’s the pruning. Cutting away makes them stronger.”

Sometimes, in her nightmares, he was still cutting, still counting down.

She shoved those thoughts aside.

Thinking about those things would do her no good.

She had to move on with her life, and she couldn’t let that single rose petal derail the progress she’d made.

Besides, this assignment would take all her energy.

Only her newfound faith would get her through.

“Olivia, you coming?” Wes yelled from outside her room.

“I’ll be right there.” She tied her shoes and stood.

A moment later, she began a half-jog, half-walk down the hallway.

But she stopped short as something caught her eye before she reached the stairs.

It was a rose petal.

Another one.

On the floor.

Suddenly, everything around her began to spin.