Chapter 77: Mark's Suspicions

The paintbrushes touching on canvases broke the evening silence, a rhythm soft and familiar to Mark in this room, second to none other than his own heartbeat. He leaned against the doorframe in Olivia's studio, watching her work with a mix of awe and unease. Her movements were frenetic, almost desperate, as she seemed to attack the canvas with wide strokes of deep crimson and stormy blue. It had been like this for days now, ever since her meeting with Nathan. Olivia would remain in her studio all day, emerging at times for a few minutes before locking herself back in and working away for hours on end. The intensity was nothing new, but there was a slow edge to the obsession—unrest brewing beneath the surface—that left Mark's molars grinding under the pressure. "Liv?" he called softly, not wanting to startle her. Olivia's hand went still, the brush hanging a few inches from the canvas. She turned to him with a small smile that played around her lips but didn't quite reach her eyes. "