CHAPTER 54: CHAPTER 54

Olivia’s POV

At the sound of the coffee cup hitting the floor, Maxwell jumped.

"Oliv... Oliver." He stuttered, as he pushed the woman away from him and quickly moved away from her.

I stared at them open-mouthed - a habit I recently developed ever since I first encountered this man.

He had the decency to look guilty as he stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"It’s not what you think, Oliver. She came on to me. I was caught off guard."

"Max, what are you doing? You don’t have to explain anything to your errand boy."

*Errand boy?* The condescension in her voice made my blood boil, but I forced myself to stay focused on the bigger picture.

I looked at him, then at the woman. At him again, then at the woman. And that’s when it dawned on me. This woman was Tracy Windhill.

She was stunning - the kind of beautiful that made magazine covers. Long auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, her figure looked so perfect in an expensive green dress, and her face had the kind of bone structure that photographers would kill for. But there was something possessive in her eyes, something fierce about the way she was watching Maxwell’s reaction to getting caught.

*So this is the ex-girlfriend. The woman who supposedly didn’t kill her husband. The woman Maxwell is willing to risk his career defending.*

"Is... Is she..." I croaked, unable to finish the sentence.

Maxwell, suspecting what I wanted to say, nodded then made the introduction, his face still filled with guilt.

"Oliver, meet Tracy Windhill. Tracy, this is Oliver Hopton, my personal assistant."

Tracy barely glanced in my direction, her attention completely focused on Maxwell. "Maxwell, darling, we were just discussing my case. You know how grateful I am that you’re helping me."

*Grateful. Right. That’s what they’re calling it now.*

But it was because of things like this that he shouldn’t have taken on this case in the first place. Defending someone you’re clearly in love with wasn’t right. Because then you’d be thinking with your heart instead of your head, and I needed him to know what I thought.

The lawyer in me couldn’t stand by and watch Maxwell make such a dangerous mistake. Even if he was my tormentor, even if he hated everything about Olivia Hopton, I couldn’t let him destroy his career over a woman who might be guilty of murder.

"Can I have a word with you, sir?" I asked firmly. "Privately."

Maxwell looked shocked at my request. I guess he didn’t expect me to be brave enough to make such a request. Tracy’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised that the "errand boy" would dare interrupt their moment.

He nodded reluctantly. "Tracy, give us a moment."

I preceded him to the smaller inner office, the spilled coffee and sandwich forgotten on the floor.

*This is it, Olivia. You’re about to tell your boss - the man who controls your paycheck and your future - exactly what you think of his professional judgment. This could go very, very badly.*

Once inside, I closed the door, hoping the woman outside wouldn’t hear us. The space felt a little suffocating with both of us in it, Maxwell’s presence was overwhelming despite his injured state.

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension crackling between us like electricity. There was something in his gaze... something that looked like he wanted me to believe him.

But I knew what I saw.

"Sir," I began, my voice steadier than I felt, "I apologize in advance for what I’m about to say, but I need to say it quickly before things get too far."

Maxwell crossed his good arm over his chest, his expression hard. "Go ahead, Mr. Hopton."

I took a deep breath, knowing there was no turning back now. "I think you should drop the case."

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. Maxwell looked very shocked.

"What?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, sir. I think you should drop Tracy Windhill’s case and hand it over to someone else."

Maxwell’s jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might fire me on the spot. "And why, exactly, would you suggest such a thing, Mr. Hopton?"

*Here goes nothing.*

"Because you’re clearly in love with her," I said bluntly, "and it’s not conducive to defend someone you have feelings for. What if she’s actually guilty, but the love you have for her blinds you to that fact? What if you miss crucial evidence because you can’t bear to see her as anything other than innocent?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Maxwell’s face had gone completely white, then flushed red, then settled into a dangerous calm that made my stomach clench with fear.

*I’ve done it now. I’ve really done it. He’s going to fire me, and then he’s going to make sure I never work in this city again.*

Maxwell shook his head slowly, his voice carefully controlled. "I am not in love with Tracy Windhill."

*Right. And I’m actually a six-foot-tall male assistant named Oliver.*

I didn’t believe him for a second. The way he’d been working on her case with such intensity, the way he’d looked when I caught them together, the guilt written all over his face - it all pointed to the same conclusion.

"Sir, with all due respect, you don’t have to hide it from me," I said gently. "It’s clearly obvious. The way you’ve thrown yourself into this case, the way you reacted when I walked in... anyone can see that you still have feelings for her."

Something flashed in Maxwell’s eyes - anger, frustration, maybe even a hint of desperation. Before I could react, he had moved forward and placed his good hand firmly on my shoulder, his grip strong enough that I couldn’t step away.

"Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Hopton," he said in a strong voice, his green eyes boring into mine. "I am not in love with Tracy Windhill. I am only taking up her case because she pleaded with me and because I thought I knew her to be a good woman. But I was clearly wrong. Plus, I’m always focused on every case. That’s what makes me Maxwell Wellington."

*Oh.*