Chapter 18
Olivia’s POV
Amelia kept calling repeatedly. I let it ring, half-hoping she’d give up. But when she called again and I still didn’t an- swer, she sent a sharp text instead.
“Be at Ashmoon Hotel by 7:00 p.m. tonight. Or the original $150 million settlement stands. Don’t test my patience.”
It was the kind of message you’d expect from someone who had the Hawthorne name tied around their neck like a sword. I stared at the phone for a second before putting it down on the coffee table.
Ava’s voice echoed in my head-“Be careful with Amelia.”
Maybe tonight’s meeting wasn’t just about documents. Maybe she would try to downplay me and trap me into some- thing.
I didn’t respond yet.
Just then, a new message lit up my phone. This one was from Mike.
“Miss Whitmore, has Mr. Green’s suit been scheduled for return? I can coordinate timing if needed.”
Right. The suit. I could’ve just handed it to the property staff and let them drop it off upstairs. After all, Alexander lived one floor above me now. But something about that felt… too casual. Too cold. And frankly, I didn’t want to come off as dismissive, not to someone like him.
I sat back and thought it through. Deliver the suit personally. Keep it quick, professional, polite. And since I was al- ready heading out to meet Amelia, I might as well line it all up.
I texted Mike back:
“8:00 p.m. tonight. I’ll drop it off in person.”
After that, I headed upstairs to get dressed. Light makeup. Neutral tones. A white blouse, clean black slacks. No per- fume. Nothing that could be mistaken for “trying.”
I packed the suit carefully in a garment bag and left the house. But I didn’t head straight for Alexander.
First, I drove to my parents’ place.
I’d caught a car idling outside Duskhollow Pines earlier. Nothing conclusive, but the way it kept its distance and didn’ t pull away even after ten minutes-it was enough to make me cautious. That incident with Ethan outside the complex had already reminded me that privacy wasn’t something I could rely on anymore. Especially not with a soon-to-be ex- husband who still acted like I was his Luna.
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On the drive, Ethan called. I considered ignoring him, but that would only make him suspicious. I picked up.
“Are you napping?” he asked casually.
“No,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I’m dropping off the suit at my parents’ place.”
A pause. He was testing me.
“Just that?” he asked.
“Just that.”
He hung up without another word. But I knew better-he’d have someone watching me before the end of the hour.
By the time I pulled up to my childhood home, it was already late afternoon. My mother, Polin, opened the door and looked surprised to see me.
“Why aren’t you at work?” she asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, eyes scanning my face.
“I took a day off. Needed a break.”
She stepped aside, letting me in. “You’ve lost weight again. Is Ethan treating you poorly?”
I gave her a soft laugh. “If he wasn’t, I’d be getting a divorce.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Olivia…’
“I
I cut her off before she could go any further. “Relax, Mom. I’m just joking.” I changed the subject to her garden, her latest book club drama-anything that could steer the conversation away from Ethan.
I wasn’t ready to tell my parents yet. Not until everything was finalized. Not until I had papers in hand. Until then, I’d keep it to myself. One last responsibility before I closed this chapter for good.
We had dinner together. Simple home food. Comfortable silence. I missed this.
When I finished, I stood up and said, “I’m meeting a friend tonight. Might stay over.”
My parents nodded.
I kissed my mother’s cheek and said goodbye to dad. Then I went to the elevator.
As soon as the doors closed, I pulled a mask from my purse and slid it on, then added a black cap. Staying anonymous would be my greatest asset right now.
The elevator reached the ground floor, and I slipped out through the back door. A second later, a car turned down the block, but I was already gone-cutting through the alleyway to my parked sedan three streets over.
I wasn’t about to lead anyone to the Ashmoon Hotel.
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Chapter 18
I arrived at the destination just before seven.
It was one of those quiet, upscale places that looked like it existed for secret deals and discreet affairs. The kind of place where people wore smiles like masks and silence cost money.
I stepped inside and handed Alexander’s suit to the concierge at the front desk. “It’s for Mr. Green,” I said softly. “Please have someone deliver it to his suite.”
The concierge gave a slight nod, no questions asked. That was the vibe of this place. I checked my phone and mes- saged Amelia to say I’d arrived. Within a minute, a hotel staff member approached and led me down a long hallway to a private tea room.
When I walked in, Amelia was already seated. She wore a dark green dress, fitted to perfection, with her hair swept up neatly. The scent of rose and cardamom clung faintly to the air around her. She smiled, but there was no warmth in
“Sit,” she said calmly, gesturing to the seat across from her.
I sat down but didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Where’s the agreement?” I asked, keeping my voice flat. “I don’t have time to play games.”
“Have some tea first,” she replied smoothly, motioning to the pot between us. “Let’s talk slowly.”
“I’d rather not,” I said. My eyes narrowed as I stared at the cup. “Unless this is poisoned?”
Her smile sharpened. “If you’re that afraid, don’t drink.”
I pushed the cup aside without touching it. “Then stop wasting time. Let’s get to the point.”
Her expression tightened. She pulled out a folder and slid it across the table to me.
I opened it and began reading. It was mostly about compensation-like the previous version-but this one was much longer, ten pages or more. Buried between legalese and irrelevant filler were a few red flags that made me pause.
I scanned each section, my jaw tightening the further I read. She was counting on me losing patience, maybe even skipping past important clauses.
I flipped back to one that stood out in bold:” Should either party engage in any intimate or inappropriate relationship with another individual prior to the official registration of divorce, the settlement agreement shall be considered void.”
My stomach tensed.
I wasn’t guilty of anything, but the wording gave too much room for interpretation. And it made me feel like someone was setting a trap.
“I need to show this to my lawyer,” I said coolly, closing the folder. “I’ll respond by tomorrow noon.”
“No,” Amelia said quickly, her tone suddenly sharp. “It must be signed today.”
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I looked at her, unimpressed. “You just said it can be modified. So why this urgency? Why this version?”
She didn’t answer the question. Instead, she leaned back and folded her arms. “Because it must be this agreement.”
I offered her a small, tired smile. “Fine. Then I’ll call my lawyer. If they say it’s fine, I’ll sign.”
Without waiting for a reply, I stood up, clutching the folder. “Give me a minute,” I said, already turning for the door.
She didn’t stop me.
The moment I stepped out of that tea room, I moved quickly. I didn’t want to stay another second in that place.
In the elevator, I stared down at the folder in my hand. Ten pages.
It was too long, too vague, and too dangerous.
Especially that clause.
I had a bad feeling about it.
