bChapter 212 /b

OLIVIA’S POV

I buried myself deeper into the corner of my couch, my legs tucked under me, the nket twisted carelessly around bmy /bwaist. bThis /bwas not how I wanted my morning to turn out,

I should probably think about improving my acting skills because even I couldn’t believe the show I put on for the police a few moments ago, I was able to convince the police that there was enough evidence and proof at Adrian house and they went to confirm, if they did find anything they were going to arrest him I think. Anyways I had finally gotten back from thekeside band /bbI /bwas tired, stripes of sun and shadow dancing across the floor. On the TV, the news anchors were animated, voicesced with bthe /bkind of hushed excitement they reserved for high–profile scandals.

My n worked. And it worked beautifully.

Even though they hadn’t dared put him in handcuffs yet, it still felt oddly satisfying to see the police escort Adrian away from his mansion, cameras shing, reporters shouting questions he wouldn’t answer. The great Adrian Westwood, an untouchable, billionaire, finally looked… human. Vulnerable.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched his face on the screen, still so cold and proud even now. “Enjoy the walkb, /bAdrian,” I whispered under my breath, voice low and sharp.

You’ve probably never even learned what it means to suffer. All your life, you were the one inflicting pain, the one pulling the strings behind the curtain. But this time, it’s my turn. I’ll make you suffer. I’ll make you pay for everything you and your lover did to me. And this…this little scandal on the morning news is just the beginning. The tip of the iceberg.

I know there are other secrets you’d do anything to keep buried, Adrian. Darker secrets. And I’m going to find every single one of

them. And when I do, I’ll tear your perfect empire apart brick by brick until there’s nothing left but ashes and regret.

The sound of gentle knocking on my door cut through my thoughts. Soft, measured

“Come in,” I called, not bothering to turn my head from the TV.

The door creaked open and Damien stepped inside, holding a ck tablet under his arm. His expression softened when he saw me, and he walked closer until he stood by the couch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice careful, calm. “How’re you holding up?”

I turned my head toward him, forcing a small, wry smile. “This?” I gestured toward the TV, where Adrian’s face still filled the screen. “This is nothing, Damien. Just a breeze. I’ve been through far worse, trust me.”

“Good,” he said, relief flickering across his face. He lowered himself into the chair opposite me, leaning forward slightly. “I’m d you’re not letting this shake you. Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, something that’s been stuck in my head. since we left the boat.”

I straightened a little, folding my arms across my chest. “Go ahead,” I said, voice steady. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood bto /bbtalk /bback then, but I’m listening now.”

He lifted the tablet, tapping the screen. The image froze on Adrian, his jaw clenched, eyes cold as the officers guided bhim /bbtoward /bthe waiting car. Damien’s finger hovered over the face.

“This man,” he said, ncing up at me, his brows knit in quiet confusion. “I recognized him from the auctionb. /bHe bwas /bbthe /bbst /bbone /bbidding against you ifor /ithat car, wasn’t he? And now I hear he’s your ex–husband?”

b1/3 /b

b12:20 /bbFri /b2 Aug G

Chapter b212 /b

bThe /bair bfelt /bheavier in the room, as if my past had drifted in to stand between us. I drew bin /ba slow breathb, /bbthen /bnodded. Tedald quietly, my voice colder than I intended. “That was a long time ago. Adrian Westwood… was the man who tried bto /bkill me

Damien’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“He’s the reason! ran,” I continued, words falling out sharper now, edged with old pain that refused to die. The reasonb! /b

I

disappeared. When you met me at the airport, I was running from him. From every” 22”

I paused, my fingers curling slightly into the nket. For a moment, the memory flickered behind my eyes: the fear, the nights! couldn’t sleep, the feeling of being hunted even in a crowded room.

“It all makes sense now,” Damien said slowly, his gaze sharpening as the pieces clicked together in his mind. “That’s why you were hesitant toe to New York when your assistant first mentioned it. And that’s why you hid your face when we went to the auction. Because you knew he’d be there and you didn’t want him to see you.”

His words hung in the air, and for a second, I hesitated, feeling the faintest vulnerability stir inside me. But then I gave him a smallb, /bquiet nod of approval.

Damien leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Wait… so after he failed to kill you, he still went after your foster parents?b” /b

My jaw tightened. “Yes,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “But as you can see, things have changed.” I lifted my chin and gestured toward the tablet resting on the table between us. Adrian’s face was frozen on the screen, framed by shing cameras and the chaos of reporters. “He should be behind bars now, getting ready for court.”

The idea of him sitting alone in a cell, stripped of his power, brought a dark satisfaction that was hard to describe.

“I’ll make sure he gets the punishment he deservesi,/i” Damien said suddenly, his tone steely. “I’ll be the prosecutor, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t use his money or influence to slip out of this one.”

I nced at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. For a moment, it warmed something inside me but the warmth didn’tst. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I cautioned, my voice low, careful. “Getting involved with him isn’t something you just wake up and decide to do. Adrian is… dangerous. It could turn out for his benefit if you’re not careful. But…” I paused, meeting his gaze, “You can still try.”

A faint smirk ghosted across Damien’s lips. “I’vee up against opponents much more terrifying than him, Olivia,” he said, his voice calm but confident. “He’ll just be another person added to my list.”

For a brief moment, I envied his certainty. The way he spoke, as if even Adrian Westwood could be handled like any other target.

But before the moment could settle, Damien’s next question slipped out, soft but sharp as a de. “Is he… the father of Charlie?”

The words cut through the air between us.

I drew in a breath, steadying myself. I’d known he would ask that question eventually. It had been hovering between us like a shadow for days. But hearing it spoken aloud still stirred something deep in my chest, an ache I’d buried long ago.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, my phone buzzed against the arm of the couch. My eyes flicked down bto /bbthe /bbscreen/b, band /bbfor /ba second, my breath caught. “Sorry,” I murmured to Damien, standing as I picked up the call. “I have to take this.”

I turned

away

from him, walking over to the corner of the room before answering

“Olivia, honey!” my father’s warm voice came through the speaker, faintly crackling. “Your mom and I will be bnding /bbin /bbNew /bbYork /bsoon. Send us the address where you’re staying so we can all be together.”

b12:20 /bbFri/bb, /b1 bAug /bG