HIS

Chapter 48

Olivia's Pov

Staying silent won't get me out of this mess, and this woman's had it out for me since the moment I stepped into this house. Why she's so hostile is beyond me, but right now, that doesn't matter. Lying is the only card I've got left to play—and I'm not above using it.

"What makes you so sure that phone is mine? I was just picking it up off the floor—right when you walked in. Convenient timing, don't you think? Almost like someone set me up," I said, raising my voice slightly and narrowing my eyes, doing my best to sound convincing, hoping she'd buy it.

She snatched the phone from my hand and grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the room. Mr. Buff was nowhere to be seen, and the house had fallen into an eerie silence. The usual bustle of maids moving through the halls was gone—nothing but stillness now.

"Hey! Where are you taking me?" I demand, struggling against her grip as she pulls me forcefully down the corridor. She doesn't even acknowledge the question—no response, no glance back. Just silence and determination.

I could easily take her down and make her regret every move—but I won't risk Domenico getting hurt because of it. So instead, I play along, stumbling behind her and keeping up the act of being the innocent woman they think I am.

We reached a door that looked like it led to an office. She knocked sharply, all while shooting me a cold glare. A familiar voice called out for us to come in. She opened the door and shoved me inside with enough force that I nearly stumbled over my own feet.

The office is spacious and luxurious, with Santiago seated behind a rich chestnut-colored desk, dressed in an off-white cotton shirt, radiating authority. To the right, a towering floor-to-ceiling bookcase dominates the wall, while to the left, a large L-shaped dark brown leather couch adds to the room's opulence.

My eyes scanned his features as he sat there, a smug, almost boyish grin playing on his lips. What he found so amusing, only his twisted mind could explain. Despite the odd set of teeth, there's no denying he's a striking man—somehow, his looks manage to overshadow the flaws.

What I couldn't identify before is now perfectly clear—it's his eyes. People say the eyes are the window to the soul, and in his case, that saying couldn't be truer. If you stare too long, you might feel like you're being pulled in. There's no mistaking it—pure evil.

I feel a chill run down my spine as he locks eyes with me, holding the stare. Honestly, it's not him that scares me—it's what he might be capable of.

"Boss, I found a cellphone on her," she says, a smug expression on her face. "Caught her with it in one of the maid's quarters."

"Mhmm... is that so?" Santiago says, his eyes still scanning my body as he squints slightly and bites his lower lip, a dark glint in his gaze.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my response, as he leans back in his chair, casually spinning a pen between his fingers.

"I used the bathroom in the maid's quarters because one of the guards said I could, and he waited outside the door," I explain, putting on the most innocent look I can manage. "When I came out, I saw the phone lying on the floor and picked it up—right as she walked in."

"Where's the phone?" he asks Gail, extending his hand toward her. She places it in his palm, and he takes his time scrolling through it.

After a few seconds, he looks up at me, tapping the phone thoughtfully. "Where did you say you found this again?" he asks, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"It was on the floor just as I was about to leave the room," I say, locking eyes with him. If there were awards for lying to a killer, I'd be walking away with an Oscar.