Olivia's POV
As Maxwell had instructed, I spent the entire morning doing everything he'd asked. I booked the appointment with Tracy Windhill for 1 PM, organized all the case files in perfect order, and created a detailed timeline of Paul Windhill's last week alive. Every appointment and every meeting during his last days was properly documented.
When I finished, I gathered the files and approached Maxwell's desk. He was completely absorbed in his work, pouring over several case documents with intense focus. His good hand flipped through papers while his injured arm rested in its sling. Even disheveled from all the work, he looked devastatingly handsome.
I stood there for a moment, holding the files and pondering whether I should interrupt him. The question that had been burning in my mind all morning felt too personal but I couldn't shake my curiosity.
Maxwell must have sensed my presence because he spoke without looking up from his work.
