CHAPTER 212: CHAPTER 212

Olivia’s POV

I hurried to the room I’d stayed in as Oliver, my heart pounding. Every second counted. I needed to change and get out before anyone started asking questions about why Olivia was still wandering around the mansion.

Inside the room, I went straight to the closet to get Oliver’s clothes. I stripped off my dress and heels, carefully folding them into my bag, and pulled on Oliver’s outfit.

The wig came next, then the facial hair, the prosthetics and the chest binds. I studied myself in the mirror, adjusting until Oliver stared back at me.

Good enough.

Now I just needed to get out without being seen by any staff who might wonder why two Olivers were leaving the mansion.

I cracked open the door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. Perfect.

Moving quickly but trying not to look suspicious, I made my way down the stairs. My heart hammered with every step, certain someone would appear and realize something suspicious was going on.

But luck was on my side. I made it to a side entrance that led to the gardens, slipped outside, and circled around to the front gate on foot.

The security guard barely glanced at me as I left. "Have a good day, sir."

"You too," I mumbled in Oliver’s voice, keeping my head down.

Once I was clear of the property, I allowed myself to breathe.

Holy shit. I actually did it.

I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address of a hotel near our apartment - the meeting place Kira and I had agreed on.

The taxi dropped me off at the entrance of the hotel. I took one last steadying breath, rolled my shoulders back in Oliver’s posture, and walked in.

The receptionist, a woman with short curls and bright eyes, greeted me with a polite smile.

"Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. It should be under Kira," I said, deepening my voice.

She typed rapidly. "Ah yes, room 309. She’s already checked in. Would you like me to call up and let her know you’re here?"

"No, thank you. She’s expecting me."

The receptionist handed me a keycard with a warm nod. "Elevator is to your left. Enjoy your stay."

I got to the hotel room on the third floor, and knocked on the door quietly.

Kira opened it immediately, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.

"Thank God. I was starting to worry something might go wro... Oh!"

I’d spotted the figure sitting casually in one of the armchairs, and my face broke into a genuine smile.

"Julian!"

"Darling!" Julian stood and pulled me into a hug, his cologne overwhelming in the best way. "Look at you, still rocking the whole ’sexy nerd boy’ aesthetic. I’ve missed you!"

"I’ve missed you too!" I pulled back to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Kira called in reinforcements for operation ’kidnap the imposter,’" Julian said with a dramatic flourish. "And you know I can never resist a good heist. Plus, someone needed to help carry your unconscious doppelgänger."

I looked over at the bed where fake Oliver was still passed out, sitting on a chair they’d dragged over.

"Kira filled me in on everything," Julian continued, his tone turning more serious. "The imposter, the whole situation. This is wild, even by your standards."

"Tell me about it." I moved closer to examine fake Oliver, who was breathing steadily but showed no signs of waking yet. "Only he can tell us what we need to know."

"Speaking of which," Julian settled back into his chair, "why haven’t you been coming to the office? I never see you anymore. And Maxwell barely shows up either. The whole place feels empty without you and your drama."

I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Maxwell’s cat went missing. Mitchell. He’s been keeping me on lockdown at his mansion until she’s found. Won’t let me out of his sight basically."

Julian’s eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Maxwell’s cat is missing?"

"Yeah. It’s been a nightmare. We’ve been searching for days with no luck."

"Huh." Something flickered across his face - an expression I couldn’t quite read. "That’s... interesting."

**********

Julian’s POV

I nodded slowly, not saying anything else as Olivia and Kira moved toward the imposter to check if he was waking up yet.

The moment their backs were turned, I walked to a quiet corner of the room and pulled out my phone.

Mitchell is missing. Right.

I scrolled through my contacts and dialed a number I’d called just yesterday.

A smooth, accented voice answered on the second ring. "Kitties Resort and Spa Paris, how may I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I’m calling to check on one of your guests. Mitchell Wellington? I just want to make sure she’s settling in alright."

"Of course, Monsieur Julian. Let me check her status." I heard typing in the background. "Ah yes, Miss Mitchell just finished her massage session. She’s currently in her private suite where one of our staff members is giving her a facial treatment."

I knew it.

"I need proof," I said firmly. "Can you show me? Video call?"

"Certainement. Please hold."

A moment later, my screen filled with the image of the most luxurious cat suite I’d ever seen - and I’d seen many. Plush cushions, crystal water bowls, toys scattered artfully around the room.

And there, lounging like the queen she was, sat Mitchell. Her white Persian fur had been freshly groomed, and a spa employee was gently massaging some kind of cream into her face while Mitchell purred with contentment.

"Miss Mitchell," the employee cooed in French-accented English, "how are you feeling today?"

Mitchell responded with the most satisfied purr I’d ever heard, stretching luxuriously.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Maxwell, you absolute psychopath.

He’d ordered me to take Mitchell to Paris. To a luxury cat resort. For a vacation. And then told Olivia the cat was missing? Put that poor girl through days of psychological torture searching for a cat that was living better than most humans?

Oh, that man is bad. Like, really, truly terrible.

"Thank you," I told the staff member. "Please continue giving her the best care."

"Of course, monsieur. Au revoir!"

I hung up and pocketed my phone, processing this information.

Maxwell had planned the entire thing. The "missing" cat. Keeping Olivia trapped at his mansion. The desperate searches. All of it was a manipulation to keep her close.

Should I tell her?

I looked over at Olivia, who was now helping Kira strip the imposter down to his boxers, both of them working with pure focus.

Not yet. Let’s see what this imposter has to say first.

********

Olivia’s POV

"Why are we taking his clothes off?" Julian asked, walking back over to join us.

"We need to confirm if the imposter is male or female," I explained, tugging at the unconscious guy’s jeans. "And I need his clothes. If I’m going back to Maxwell’s house as Oliver, I can’t wear what I left in. Maxwell would notice."

"Ah, smart." Julian helped Kira remove the imposter’s shirt. "And the verdict?"

"Definitely male," Kira confirmed, stepping back to survey our work. "Very male."

The imposter lay there in just his boxers, still completely unconscious, looking vulnerable and ridiculous.

"Help me tie him up," I said, pulling out the rope we’d brought.

Between the three of us, we managed to secure him to the chair - hands behind his back, ankles tied to the legs, tight enough that he couldn’t escape.

"This is definitely the craziest thing I’ve done this year," Julian observed.

"Ready?" Kira asked, raising her hand.

I nodded.

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the room as Kira’s palm connected with the imposter’s cheek.

He jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes flying open in confusion.

"Wha... where..." His gaze darted around the room, taking in his state of undress, the ropes, the three of us standing over him.

Then his eyes landed on me - on Oliver - and his face went white.

"Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT!"

"Yeah, shit," I said coldly, crossing my arms. "You fucking fake. You’re going to tell us everything we need to know."

"Start talking," Kira snapped. "Who hired you?"

But he didn’t. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his eyes darting between us, calculating.

"I’m not saying anything."

Kira arched a brow. "You should."

"Go to hell," he spat. "Untie me and I’ll consider talking."

Julian winced. "Oh, sweetheart. Wrong answer."

Kira slapped him again - hard.

SLAP.

His head snapped to the other side.

Still, he glared defiantly. "I’m not telling you anything "

Another slap.

This time she grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

"Talk."

"No," he rasped. "I’m not betraying..."

SLAP.

SLAP.

SLAP.

The rapid succession echoed through the room. Julian actually flinched and looked away.

Kira leaned in, voice low and deadly. "You’re going to talk. Or I’ll give you something to really panic about."

The imposter swallowed hard, breathing ragged.

Still, he hesitated.

So Kira slapped him again - once, sharp, final.

He broke.

"All right! All right! STOP! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you whatever you want!"

"Start with the basics," Kira said, her voice hard. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ryan! Ryan Brown! I’m nobody, I swear, I’m just... I was just doing a job!"

"What job?" I demanded.

"I was hired to watch you!" The words tumbled out frantically. "To learn everything about you - how you walk, how you talk, how you act as Oliver. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now!"

My blood ran cold. "You’ve been stalking me?"

"Who hired you?" Kira stepped closer, and Ryan flinched.