CHAPTER 69: CHAPTER 69

Olivia’s POV

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer, immediately hit by the beauty of the mansion all over again. Everything was so pristine and expensive-looking that I was afraid to breathe too hard. The floors gleamed like mirrors, and crystal chandeliers hung from impossibly high ceilings like frozen fireworks.

Don’t touch anything, Olivia. Don’t even look at anything too hard. It probably costs more than your entire existence.

A maid approached me immediately, dressed in a smart black and white uniform.

"Mr. Hopton, we’ve been expecting you," she said with a warm smile. "Please, follow me. I’ll show you to the master’s study."

I followed diligently, trying to keep my jaw from dropping as we walked through the house. Last time I’d only made it to the dinning room, but right now?

Oh my God. The house was like something out of a fairy tale - the kind you’d find floating in the clouds with unicorns prancing around the garden. Every surface gleamed, every painting looked like it belonged in the Louvre, and every piece of furniture whispered "expensive."

But I wasn’t just admiring the décor. Oh no. I was on a mission, mentally mapping the house layout and noting the movement patterns of the staff. There were at least eleven maids that I could see, moving through the house, carrying out different tasks.

This was going to be trickier than I thought.

Then something crossed my mind. "Excuse me," I said casually to the maid, "is the mistress of the house around today?"

"Oh no, sir," she replied cheerfully. "Ms. Sabrina went out with her friends to plan an engagement party. She’ll be gone most of the day."

Vanessa’s party! Right, that was tomorrow. Well, Sabrina’s absence meant more freedom to execute Operation Cat Heist.

We arrived at Maxwell’s study, and the maid paused at the doorway. "If you need anything at all, sir, just call for any of us. We’re here to help."

"Thank you," I said, then added with what I hoped was a masculine remark, "This house is absolutely beautiful, by the way."

Her face lit up. "Oh, I know! Even after working here for three years, it still amazes me every day. You’re free to look around if you’d like - the master encourages guests to enjoy the house. Just..." Her expression became serious. "The master’s bedroom is off limits. You mustn’t go near there under any circumstances."

I nodded earnestly. "Of course! I would never dream of it."

Famous last words, Olivia.

The maid left me alone at the door, and I immediately got to work.

"Okay, Olivia," I whispered to myself, "document first, then cat hunting."

I stepped into Maxwell’s home office and stopped dead in my tracks. It was like entering his office at Wellington & Sons, but... better. Richer. More imposing. I backed out and entered again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

It was almost identical to his work office - the same intimidating huge desk, the same wall of law books, the same general aura of "I will destroy you in court." The only differences were the higher ceilings, more expensive artwork, and the absence of my tiny assistant’s office behind the door.

The blue folder was exactly where Maxwell said it would be, sitting pretty on the massive desk like it was waiting for me. I grabbed it quickly, tucking it under my arm.

Now for the real mission.

"Here, kitty kitty," I called softly, tiptoeing around the study. "Mitchell? Where are you, you furry little princess?"

I searched every corner of the study - behind the curtains, under the desk, in the reading nook by the window. Nothing. No sign of the allegedly pampered feline anywhere.

Where could this cat be?

This house was enormous, with multiple wings and more rooms than most hotels. The staff were patrolling like it was a war zone - I’d already spotted three different maids in the past ten minutes, all moving in and out of every room.

Where does a rich cat hang out? I wondered, then had a brilliant - if absolutely terrible - idea.

The master bedroom! Of course!

I mean, where else would Maxwell’s precious princess cat be but in the most luxurious room in the house? And yes, it was off limits, but... how else was I supposed to complete my mission? Besides, I’d been given access to the whole house. Technically.

This is a terrible idea, Olivia. This is how horror movies start.

But I was committed now. I walked confidently toward the grand staircase, the folder still tucked under my arm. The marble steps were so polished I could see my reflection, and the bannister was carved with intricate patterns that probably took some artist months to complete.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed something strange. The entire hallway was eerily quiet. No maids bustling about, no sounds of cleaning or organizing. It was like I’d entered a completely different part of the house.

Was the master’s bedroom off limits to the staff too?

I walked down the hallway, trying doors as quietly as possible. The first room was a library that could rival the one from Beauty and the Beast. The second was a formal sitting room with furniture that looked like it had never been sat on. The third was some kind of art gallery with paintings that made my eyes water just thinking about their price tags.

After checking six different rooms - each more ridiculously exquisite and expensive than the last - I finally found what had to be Maxwell’s bedroom.

And by "bedroom," I mean "a wonderland that made my entire apartment look like a cabinet.

I sneaked inside and closed the door quietly behind me, then immediately forgot how to breathe.

Maxwell’s bedroom wasn’t just a room - it was like a house within a house. My tiny apartment could fit into just one corner and still leave enough space for a tennis court. The ceiling soared so high I got dizzy looking up at it, supported by columns that belonged in a Greek temple. There was even another staircase inside the room, leading up to what looked like a second level.

But what caught my attention immediately was the carpet. It was pure white and so thick it looked like walking on a cloud made of angel hair. I couldn’t help myself - I slipped off my shoes and let my feet sink into the plush softness.

Oh my God, this is what heaven feels like.

I spent the next few minutes exploring what could only be described as Maxwell’s personal resort. There was a full kitchen in one corner - not a kitchenette, but a full kitchen with exquisite-grade appliances. A jacuzzi that could fit eight people sat near the floor-to-ceiling windows. And outside on the balcony... was that a transparent glass pool suspended over what had to be a fifty-foot drop?

Nope. Absolutely not. I’ll stick to hotel pools, thank you very much.

The walk-in closet was bigger than most boutiques, filled with designer suits and custom-made clothing, each piece bearing a discreet "Max. W" monogram. Everything was organized with care - shirts arranged by color, ties sorted by pattern, shoes lined up according to design.

This man has more clothes than I have books. And I have a lot of books.

Finally, I climbed the interior staircase to discover what could only be described as Cat Paradise. The entire upper level had been converted into a feline wonderland, complete with climbing trees, toys that probably cost a lot, crystal food bowls, and a bed that looked more comfortable than anything I’d ever slept on.

And there, napping peacefully in the center of this kitty kingdom, was the most beautiful cat I’d ever seen.

Mitchell was enormous - easily twice the size of any house cat I’d encountered - with pure white fur so thick and fluffy it looked like she’d been groomed by fairy godmothers. She was curled up in what appeared to be a custom-made bed lined with silk, looking every inch the pampered princess she was.

"There you are, beautiful," I whispered, approaching slowly.

I couldn’t resist running my fingers through her incredibly soft fur. She stirred and looked up at me, and I nearly gasped. Her eyes were the exact same shade of green as Maxwell’s - that piercing, intelligent emerald that seemed to see right through you.

Even his cat has perfect genes. Unfair.

To my surprise, Mitchell immediately cuddled up to me, purring like a tiny motor and nuzzling against my hand. She was surprisingly heavy - clearly well-fed - but she settled into my arms like we’d been best friends for years.

Well, this is going to be easier than I thought.

I looked around for something to cover my new furry cat and found a luxurious cashmere throw blanket. If any of the staff asked questions, I’d simply say it was Maxwell’s suit from his study that he’d asked me to bring.

I wrapped Mitchell carefully in the blanket, making sure she could breathe but was completely concealed. She seemed perfectly content, purring softly against my chest.

"Okay, Mitchell," I whispered. "Time for your great adventure."

I walked down the stairs to the bedroom door and tried the handle.

It didn’t turn.

I tried again, pushing and pulling, but nothing happened.

The door was completely, utterly, thoroughly locked.

What the hell?

I was certain I’d left it slightly ajar when I entered. Doors don’t just lock themselves... do they?

Panic started creeping up my throat. How was I supposed to get out? I couldn’t call for help - that would involve explaining why I was in the off-limits master bedroom with a stolen cat wrapped in an expensive blanket.

Think, Olivia, think. There has to be another way out. Maybe the balcony? No, that’s a fifty-foot drop. The windows? All sealed. There has to be...

That’s when I noticed it.

A subtle hissing sound, like air being released from somewhere in the room.

Within seconds, a strange sweet smell began filling the air, and I started feeling dizzy. My eyelids grew heavy, and Maxwell’s enormous bed suddenly looked like the most inviting thing in the world.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is not happening.

But my legs were already giving out. I stumbled toward the bed, still holding Mitchell, who seemed unaffected by whatever was happening.

Security system. I thought through my fading consciousness. You’ve triggered some kind of security system.

The last thing I remembered before everything went black was the irony that I was about to fall asleep in Maxwell Wellington’s bed while cuddling his cat.

Kira is never going to believe this.