The hospital smelled of antiseptic and sorrow. Amelia cornered Oscar outside the pediatric corridor, her voice low and insistent. "You can raise the child, Oscar, but you will not divorce Marley."
He opened his mouth to protest, but the look on his mother's face stopped him cold. It was the same expression she wore when she demanded he marry Marley in the first place – an ironclad command, brooking no argument.
"Next month," Amelia continued, her tone icy, "the Adams family is hosting a party. A very important one. You will attend. With Marley."
"Mother, I don't see—"
"Your grandfather will be there." Her voice cut him off like a razor. "And so will your cousin, who just returned from Paris. Be on your best behavior."
Something twisted in Oscar's gut at the mention of his cousin, his face clouding over. What game was Amelia playing now? That nephew of hers, back from Paris and stepping right into the role of CEO of Swisco—a brutal move, if ever there was one.
Amelia's heels clicked on the floor as she left the hospital, the sound echoing in Oscar's ears. Oscar stared at the empty space where she had been, his expression wistful and lost. He knew his mother's disapproval weighed heavily on him, but he couldn't turn back now.
Olivia crouched behind a corner, her heart pounding as she eavesdropped on their conversation. She bit her lip, anxiety coursing through her veins as she realized that Amelia, Oscar's mother, would never accept her or consent to his divorce from Marley. What if Oscar listened to his mother?
"Oscar," Olivia murmured, stepping out of her hiding spot and tugging gently on his arm. Her eyes were warm pools of amber, pleading for understanding. "When I found out you were married, I knew I shouldn't have come back. But Tricia... she has no father. She's always been laughed at as an orphan."
Oscar's face softened, and his large hands wrapped around her shoulders, fingers digging into her shoulder blades in a gesture of comfort. "I won't let anyone call my daughter an orphan, Olivia. Just give me some time, and I'll divorce Marley. I promise."
Olivia nodded, trying to ignore the knot of fear still lodged in her chest. Oscar gave her one last comforting glance before making his way to the child's room to check on Tricia. He found her lying in the hospital bed, her small arm adorned with dark bruises but no fractures, thankfully.
"Olivia," he called softly, turning back to her. "Tricia will be fine, but I think it's best if we keep her here overnight. Just to be safe."
"Of course," Olivia replied, her tone gentle and soothing as she assumed the role of the dutiful wife. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? You have work tomorrow, after all. I'll stay here and watch over our little girl."
The hospital lights flickered above them, casting a harsh glow on the sterile walls. Oscar's gaze met Olivia's, his eyes soft with tenderness and a hint of sorrow for the years gone by.
"Olivia, you've been so kind," Oscar murmured, his eyes softening with tenderness. "You and Tricia have endured so much these past few years, living abroad alone." He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. "I've bought an apartment for both of you, and arranged for a maid to help out. We can all move in together tomorrow."
Her heart leaped in her chest, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through her veins. "Oscar," she breathed, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Thank you. I don't want to be a mistress anymore. To finally live together... it means everything to me."
"Hey," he whispered, lowering his head to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands cradled her face, thumbs brushing against her cheeks. "Don't be jealous. Marley means nothing to me. I can't even stand the thought of touching her. I promise you, I'll divorce her soon."
Their mouths moved together, the taste of his promises like sweet nectar on their tongues. Olivia felt herself drowning in the depths of their shared desire, her soul clinging to every word he uttered. The world beyond them ceased to exist; there was only this moment, this man, and their love.
Eventually, they broke apart, breathless and flushed. Oscar pressed one last lingering kiss to her forehead before reluctantly pulling away. "I should go," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on her face. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Oscar," she whispered, watching him walk away. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips, her heart swelling with hope. Tomorrow, she would begin her new life with Oscar and their daughter - and nothing would stand in their way.
The instant Oscar vanished from view, Olivia's face transformed like a snake shedding its skin. Gone was the tender warmth, replaced by an icy, calculating expression. She yanked her phone from her pocket, fingers tapping furiously as she dialed a number.
"Send me the video of Marley and you in bed," she snapped coldly, her voice dripping with barely-contained fury.
"Uh, about that..." The hesitant reply crackled over the line, making Olivia's blood boil. "It didn't happen."
"Didn't happen?" Her voice rose dangerously, venom lacing every syllable. "I paid you a fortune, and you couldn't even sleep with her?"
"Look, it wasn't my fault," he protested weakly. "The room was occupied by someone else."
Olivia's grip tightened on the phone, knuckles whitening as she paced back and forth, her face twisted into a wicked snarl. How could this have gone so wrong? She had been meticulous in her planning, even securing an agreement with the hotel manager to make sure everything went smoothly. And now, some random stranger had waltzed in and ruined everything.
"Who the hell stole the room I booked?" she shouted, unable to contain her frustration any longer.
"Olivia, there were eight bodyguards. And the hotel's general manager personally welcomed some big shot. I couldn't do anything."
"Bodyguards?" Olivia scoffed, disbelief lacing her tone. "You're scared of a few hired hands? Pathetic."
"Listen, it wasn't just some random guy. He must be important if the hotel manager went out to greet him. I'm not stupid enough to go against someone like that."
"Fine," Olivia seethed, her anger barely contained. "Who was it, then? Give me a name."
"The hotel staff are terrified to talk. But I managed to get his surname – it's Adams," the man on the other end of the line hesitated before revealing the name.
"Adams?" Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She felt the blood drain from her face, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone tighter. It couldn't be. Not him.
"Y-yes," the man stammered, sensing her sudden panic. "Do you know him?"
"Dane Adams," she bit out. Of all the people it could've been, it had to be him. Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her teeth, frustration bubbling within her.