A Tragic Wreck
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“I love you, Olibia,” he said, kissing her forehead.
Late Friday night, Simon walked into Donovan’s office after his attorney indicated that it was okay to go in.
“Donovan, hi. Good to see you again,” he said awkwardly, extending his hand to the intimidating man in front of him.
Donovan looked up from an article he was reading on his laptop, ignoring Simon’s hand.
He nervously placed it in his pocket.
“Have a seat, Simon.”
He quickly sat down.
“I’m going to cut to the chase. I was hesitant to agree to your demands, but then I got to thinking that you could be rather useful. You see, Olivia knows you. You attacked her, which wasn’t the smartest thing you could ever have done.”
Simon looked down, embarrassed that he fucked up so bad with one simple job.
“But then you went to prison. We’re going to present you as a reformed prisoner. Someone who has gone through anger management and is now sober. Someone seeking forgiveness.”
Simon looked at Donovan. “I don’t follow.”
“You will be compassionate, begging for Olivia’s forgiveness. Tell her it’s part of your therapy. At a point in the near future, we’ll be driving a wedge between her and Burnham. You see, he was a childhood friend of Olivia’s. He knows who she is and has kept that from her these past eight months. That little piece of information will tear her fucking world apart, allowing you to come back in and help her pick up the pieces of her shattered world. Earn her trust, Simon. Refrain from any sort of sexual relationship. Get the information and then…” He held his hand up imitating a gun. “Bang bang.”