bChapter 181 /b

OLIVIA’S POV

Iid on my stomach, still half asleep, groaning softly into the pillow as the early morning sun began to bathe my face in light. The bwarmth /bof it wasn’tforting–not here. I cracked one eye open and saw the rays passing through the curtains, invading the smallfort this hotel room bprovided/b.

My rm red like a siren from hell, buzzing across the nightstand. I reached out with one arm, smacked the button, and silenced it. My bbody /bprotested as 1 rolled over. Ugh. This bed was fucking horrible, and I barely use that kind ofnguage so when I do, know it’s really horrible–stiff, uneven, and the pillows felt like they were stuffed with cardboard instead of feathers.

How was this considered one of the top luxury hotels in New York? I’d slept better on a private jet. I missed my bed back in Mexico. At this point, I just wanted to wrap this auction up, collect the damn car, check in on the New York branch of ke Enterprise, and fly back home.

Dragging myself out of bed, I padded toward the bathroom with tired steps, brushing my teeth and sshing cold water on my face. bI /bstared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were still slightly puffy from the restless sleep, but I straightened my shoulders. Today wasn’t just any day–it was bthe /bday. The auction was happening this morning, and I needed to show New York exactly what kind of power I carried now.

This city had nearly broken me once–but today, I walked back in wearing ba /bcrown.

And if you want to be respected like royalty, you have to look the part. I wasn’t going to pick out my outfit today–not when every camera would be on me. I had already arranged everything in advance. A close friend of mine, who happened to be tight with the Armani family, was bringing over ba /bcurated selection of their finest, most exclusive gowns. My stylist and designer will be here shortly to help me select the perfect oneb. /b

Until then, I needed my emotional recharge. My morning ritual. My anchor.

Charlie.

I walked back to the bed, picked up my phone, and immediately opened up a video call. The line rang a few times, and for a moment, I worried he might still be sleeping–but then Rosa answered, her face slightly flushed like she’d been rushing.

“Good morning, ma’amb,/bb” /bshe greeted, holding the tablet

up with both hands.

“Morning, Rosa,” I replied, trying to shake the sleep out of my voice. “Is my son next to you?”

b“/bNo ma’am,” she said, her tone changing slightly. It sounded cautious.

My brows furrowed. “Okay… where is he? I want to speak to him.“,

“He’s in his room, ma’am,” Rosa replied, ncing briefly to her side.

I frowned and nced bat /bthe time on my phone. 6:40 AM.

Charlie was always up and ready for school by now–eating breakfast, packing up bhis /bsnacks, excited to tell me about his dreams o watched before bed. So why was he still in his room?

“What do iyou /imean he’s in his room?b” /bbI /basked, my tone sharpening ba /blittle. “Why isn’t he getting ready bfor /bschool?”

artoon bhe /b

Rosa hesitated before answering. b“/bWellb, /bwhen I entered his room this morning to wake him, he told me he was having bsome /bbheadaches /band bcouldn’t /bstand properly. He looked very paleb, /bma’am,”

My chest clenched. I sat up straighter in the chairb, /bsuddenly fully awake.

b“What/bb?/bb” /bbI /bsaid, my voice rising louder than bI /bintended. bMy /bheart was already pounding fast.

b“/bbHave /byou called Dr. Luizb?/bb” /bbI /baskedb, /btrying to keep my bposure/bb, /bbbut /bbI /bbcould /bfeel bthe /bpanic rushing bup /bbto /bbmy /bbthroat/b.

“I bdid that /bba /bfew minutes bago/bb,” /bRosa breplied /bcalmlyb, /bbher /bbvoice /bsteady bbut /bbcautious/b.

b1/3 /b

bI /bbrubbed /bmy forehead and began pacing the room. This was not how today was supposed to go. I was supposed to wake bup/b, get dressed in bluxury/b, up at the auction, and dominate. But now all I could think about was my baby boy lying in bed sick without me.

I was truly shocked to hear this because ever since I gave birth to Charlie he had only fallen sick once, he barely falls sick because he was btaken /bbcare /bof 1. made sure he takes his nutrients and feeds him his vegetables

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” I snapped, unable to hide the sharpness in my tone. “Why did you wait until I called before telling me something like this?”

“Well, you said your business auction would start early this morning,” she replied. “I didn’t want to disturb you during an important meeting

I stopped pacing and stared at my phone, jaw clenched.

“No,” I said, my voice low and tight. “That’s not an excuse. I told you clearly–if anything is wrong, you call me immediately. You don’t assume bwhen /bto disturb me. You just do it.”

There was a beat of silence, then I let out a sigh and sat back down to keep myself from breaking something, I needed to stay calm. This bwasn’t /bbRosa’s /bfault entirely. She was trying her best.

“Go give him the phone. I want to speak to him,” I said more softly now.

“Yes ma’am,” she said, then walked up the stairs with the tablet still in hand.

The video quality was a little shaky, but when she finally stepped into Charlie’s room and turned on the camera, my heart sankb. /b

There he was–my sweet little boy–lying in his race car bed, wrapped in his favorite nket with his stuffed lion tucked under his barm/b.

“Charlie,” Rosa said, gently sitting on the edge of his bed. “Your mom’s on the phone. She wants to talk bto /byou.”

His eyes shifted slowly to the camera, and when he saw my face, a faint smile curled up on his lips. But even that small smile hurt to look at–it bwas /bbso /b

weak.

“Baby,” I said, leaning in closer to the screen. “How are you feelingb, /bsweetheart? Are the headaches still there?”

“Yes, Mommy,” he said, his little voice barely above a whisper. “My head still hurts a lot.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. God, this broke me.

I wanted nothing more than bto /bteleport into that room and wrap him up in my arms. I wanted to sing to him, brush his hair back, and hold his hand through whatever this was.

Then it hit me. I wasn’t stuck. I wasn’t helpless.

I had a private jet sitting at a New York hangar, fully fueled, with a staff ready to go at mymand. I had the power bto /bmove across bthe /bbworld /bbin /bbhours/bb. /bb! /bdidn’t have to sit here.

Screw the auction. Screw the car. Screw the revenge and this entire damn trip.

None of it meant a thing if my son wasn’t okay.

I had already lost one child. I wasn’t about to gamble with another–not for business, not for pride, not for banything/bb. /b