CHAPTER 170: CHAPTER 170

Olivia’s POV

The moment Maxwell picked up the call, I cleared my throat hard, forcing out Oliver’s voice.

"Hello," I said in Oliver’s masculine tone, trying to keep it steady despite the panic coursing through my veins.

"Oliver?" Maxwell’s voice came through. There was surprise in it too - like he hadn’t expected to see my name on his caller ID. "Why are you calling me at this time of night? Shouldn’t you be resting after what happened?"

Yeah, like you actually care.

"I have horrible news," I said, unable to keep the emotion from my voice.

"What?" His tone became alert. "What happened? Are you alright? Did something..."

"Mitchell’s missing."

Silence.

I could hear my own breathing, Kira’s quiet presence beside me, the distant sound of a car passing on the street. But from Maxwell?

Nothing.

"Mr. Wellington?" I prompted, my voice cracking slightly around the edges. "Did you hear me? Mitchell is..."

"I’m going to choose not to believe that," Maxwell said finally, his voice oddly calm, controlled. Too controlled. "It’s quite late, Oliver. And considering what you went through earlier with the electrocution, I think perhaps the incident is messing with your head. You should go back to the hospital, get checked out..."

"I’m not lying," I interrupted, desperation bleeding into my voice. "Sir, I swear I’m not making this up. Mitchell is gone. I came home and she wasn’t here and I’ve been searching everywhere for hours and I can’t find her and..."

Click.

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone in disbelief. "He hung up on me."

"What?" Kira leaned over to look at my phone. "He just... hung up?"

"He didn’t believe me. He thinks the electrocution scrambled my brain or something." I let my arm drop, the phone hanging limply in my hand. "This is so much worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"If Maxwell is in such denial about his missing cat..." I looked up at Kira, feeling the weight of this reality settling over me. "That means he’s going to completely lose it when he realizes it’s true. This is going to be so much worse than if he’d just gotten angry right away."

Kira was quiet for a moment, then she put her hand on my shoulder. "Come on. Let’s go home. You need to rest."

"But Mitchell..."

"We’ve searched everywhere, Liv. Multiple times. We’re exhausted, you’re barely standing, and honestly, we’re not going to find her like this." Her voice was gentle. "Let’s go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow morning we’ll print out posters with her picture. We’ll put them up all over the neighborhood - someone must have seen her. It’ll help."

I wanted to argue, wanted to keep searching, but my body was screaming at me to stop. My legs felt like jelly, my feet throbbed in my sneakers, and there was a deep, bone-tired exhaustion settling into every muscle.

"Okay," I whispered, filled with defeat. "Tomorrow."

We walked up the to our apartment building, each step so tiring and exhausting. The stairs to our floor might as well have been Mount Everest. By the time we reached our door, I was practically leaning on Kira for support.

Inside, our apartment felt emptier than ever. Mitchell’s things were still scattered around - all waiting for a cat who wasn’t there.

"I’m too tired to shower," Kira announced, kicking off her shoes and heading straight for her bedroom. "I’m literally about to pass out."

"Same," I mumbled, shuffling toward my own room.

I didn’t even bother changing out of my sweatpants and hoodie. I just face-planted onto my bed, pulled a pillow under my head, and let the exhaustion drag me under like a riptide.

When I woke up the next morning - or rather, when consciousness rudely dragged me back to reality - everything hurt.

And I mean everything.

My legs were stiff and sore from all the walking. My back ached. My throat was raw from calling Mitchell’s name for hours. Even my eyelids felt heavy and swollen from all the crying.

The doctor’s warnings echoed in my head: Don’t stress yourself. Your body needs time to heal from the electrical shock. Take it easy for at least a week.

Yeah. I’d really taken that advice to heart, hadn’t I? Gone clubbing, walked half of New York, and had multiple emotional breakdowns all in one night.

My body was now sending me a very clear message: You’re an idiot, and you’re going to pay for this.

I groaned, reaching blindly for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing several notifications. My heart jumped - maybe someone had found Mitchell? Maybe...

But no. The messages were from Maxwell.

Maxwell: Come to my house this morning. I need you to explain what you were trying to say last night.

I blinked at the screen, my brain still fuzzy with sleep. He wanted me to come over? Now? When I could barely move?

I typed back slowly: Can’t. Too tired and too sore to move. Doctor said I need rest.

His reply came almost immediately.

Maxwell: Then I’ll come to you. It’s the same apartment as your cousin Olivia, correct? I’ll be there in an hour.

Panic shot through me like electricity...

"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered, sitting up too fast and immediately regretting it as my head spun.

Maxwell couldn’t come here. Wait... was that why he sent Mitchell to this apartment? Because he assumed Oliver and I stayed in the same building?

But how? Shit! This is all so confusing.

I typed back immediately: Not around. Went to the hospital for a check-up. Will text when I’m back.

Before he could reply, I turned off my phone completely.

"Coward," I whispered to myself, staring at the black screen. "You’re such a coward, Olivia."

But what else could I do? I was trapped in a corner of my own making, and every direction I turned led to more lies, more complications, more ways for this whole thing to explode in my face.

I lay back down, pulling the covers over my head like I could hide from my problems.

Mitchell was missing. Maxwell was demanding answers. My stranger was still avoiding me. And my body felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer.

"Just five more minutes," I mumbled into my pillow. "Just five more minutes of not dealing with any of this."

Those five minutes turned into hours.

The next time I woke up, sunlight was streaming through my window. I fumbled for my phone - still off - and turned it back on to check the time.

12:47 PM.

I’d slept away half the day.

There was a soft knock on my door, and Kira’s head poked in. "Oh good, you’re alive. I was starting to get worried."

"Barely alive," I croaked, my voice rough with sleep. "Everything hurts."

"That’s what happens when you go on a cat hunt the same day you were electrocuted," she said, but her tone was gentle, sympathetic. She came in and sat on the edge of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death."

"Accurate." She studied my face with concern. "You need to eat something. And shower. You smell like street and despair."

"Thanks," I said dryly, but she wasn’t wrong. "Give me twenty minutes."

It took me closer to forty minutes to drag myself out of bed, shower, and make myself presentable. My hair was still damp when I entered the kitchen, but at least I was clean and dressed in fresh sweats.

Kira had made coffee - strong, dark coffee that smelled like salvation.

"Bless you," I said, wrapping my hands around the coffee cup.

"Don’t thank me yet. We still need to deal with the Mitchell situation. But first, food. You need to eat. I’ll be right back." Then she hurried out of the apartment.

I managed to make myself some scrambled eggs and toast, forcing down every bite even though my stomach was twisted with anxiety. The food helped though - gave me some energy, cleared some of the fog from my brain.

As I was finishing my last piece of toast, the front door opened and Kira walked back in, carrying a thick stack of papers.

"Posters," she announced, spreading them out on the table. "I went to the print shop this morning while you were passed out."

I picked one up, and my heart clenched.

There was Mitchell in full color - her fluffy white fur, her striking green eyes sparkling in the photo. Above her picture, in bold letters: MISSING CAT. Below it, all the details: her name, description, our phone number, and in red text: REWARD FOR SAFE RETURN.

"Kira," I said, my voice filled with emotion. "This is perfect."

"I figured if we’re going to find her, we need to do this properly." She pulled out another stack. "I made two hundred copies. We’re going to paper this entire neighborhood."

I looked at the posters again, at Mitchell’s sweet face staring back at me from the page, and felt new energy surge through me.

"Let’s do this," I said, standing up despite my protesting muscles. "Let’s bring her home."

"That’s the spirit!" Kira grabbed half the stack of posters and some tape. "But first - important question."

"What?"

She looked me up and down, then gestured at my outfit - the same oversized hoodie and sweatpants I’d thrown on after my shower.

"Who are you going as? Olivia or Oliver?"