Chapter 2

After I blew out the candles, I claimed I didn’t feel well and went back to the room.

In the master bedroom, I shut the door and locked it. I didn’t turn on the lights. The only thing left was a thin, cold neon glow leaking in through the window.

I crawled under the covers and pulled them over my head. The next second, my tears finally fell.

Biting down on the back of my hand, I still couldn’t stop the sound that broke out of me.

Every breath became painfully hard, until sheer exhaustion dragged me into darkness.

In the middle of the night, the heat behind me startled me awake.

Noah wrapped an arm around me from behind, his palm covering my lower belly, moving slowly, patiently.

“Olivia,” his voice was hoarse and tender, “did your period come early? Does it hurt again? Let me rub it for you.”

So gentle it made me nauseous.

I pretended I was half-asleep, but I still couldn’t stop myself from testing him. “Noah… are you hiding something from me?”

His hand paused for a beat.

The next second, he leaned down and kissed the back of my hand—devout, like a prayer.

“Olivia,” he chuckled softly, “are you talking nonsense because you’re in pain? How could I hide anything from you?”

He pulled me tighter into his arms, his certainty almost cruel.

“Everything I am—you already know.”

I stared into the dark, and the last little spark of luck inside me went out.

I closed my eyes and didn’t ask again.

The next morning, I woke up to arguing.

A thin thread of unease tightened in my chest. In the end, I still pushed the door open and walked out.

From the top of the stairs, I saw Sophia Smith at the front door.

She had a child on each side, both of them crying so hard their faces were beet-red. Bodyguards stood on either side, hands pressed to the guns at their waists, faces grim.

Noah stood in the shadows, without his suit jacket.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay at the old estate?” His voice was low, edged with obvious irritation. “Why did you bring them here? What if Olivia finds out—”

No one knew I was standing at the stairs, not still in the bedroom.

Sophia’s eyes immediately reddened.

“Noah,” she choked, “the kids were crying so badly… they insisted on seeing you. You know how they are. They only cling to you.”

She gently nudged the children forward.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. I can handle your parents, too.”

Noah hesitated.

Until one of the kids sobbed out that one word—

“Daddy…”

In that second, something in Noah softened.

“Just this once,” he said quietly.

I stood on the stairs, watching like an outsider at a play.

Noah noticed me first.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face—gone in an instant. Then he walked over like nothing happened, pulled me in front of him, his palm settling at my waist in an intimate gesture.

“Olivia,” his voice softened, “this is Sophia, the daughter of one of my grandfather’s old friends. Her family ran into some trouble recently, so she’s bringing the kids to stay for a while.”

I looked at Sophia, then at the children.

Those eyes. That nose bridge. That mouth—

like they’d been copied straight off Noah’s face.

“Oh.” I tugged my lips into something that barely counted as a smile and nodded. “Fine.”

I turned to go back upstairs.

That was when Sophia spoke.

“Noah, Olivia,” she wiped her tears like she’d gathered all her courage, “would it be possible to… let me stay in the master bedroom for a few days?”

She lowered her gaze to the kids, voice even more aggrieved.

“They’re too loud, and their father isn’t around… If the room is too small, I’m afraid when they cry at night, they’ll disturb everyone.”

I heard Noah’s breathing catch.

Then I saw guilt flash across his face.

The next second, he squeezed my hand and made the decision for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Olivia, give the master bedroom to Sophia. The guest room is comfortable too. You can stay there for now.”

A scene flashed through my mind—the first time I came to this villa, when he carried me into the master bedroom.

“From now on, the master bedroom belongs to you, Olivia,” he’d said, kissing my forehead. “You’re the only lady of this house.”

I nodded, afraid I’d fall apart the moment I opened my mouth.

“Okay.”

I went back to pack, my steps floating, like I was walking on cotton.

I’d barely pulled open the closet when I realized Sophia had followed me in without me noticing.

She leaned against the door frame, leisurely taking in the whole room, then let her gaze land on me—triumph written all over it.

“Olivia,” she smiled lightly, “the decor is kind of outdated. I’m planning to replace everything. You don’t mind, right?”

I folded a shirt, shoved it into the suitcase, my voice cold and flat. “Do whatever you want.”

Her expression stiffened for half a second. Then her eyes shifted, landing on a small box by my bedside.

Inside were two silk handkerchiefs.

My mother had left them to me.

Sophia moved fast, snatched them up, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

“Nice material,” she said with a gentle smile. “I left in a hurry today and didn’t bring enough diapers… one for each kid. Perfect.”

My brain buzzed, and the cold went straight through me.

“No.” I reached for them. “Those are my mother’s. I’m not giving them to you.”

She clutched them harder, knuckles whitening. In the struggle, one of the handkerchiefs flew loose and dropped into the bucket beside us—the dirty mop water the cleaners had just used, black and shining.

I lunged on instinct to grab it.

The next second, Sophia cried out, “Ah!” and toppled backward, falling to the floor.

Footsteps in the hallway rushed in.

Noah shoved the door open, immediately pulling Sophia up, his eyes dark enough to frighten me.

“What happened!”

Sophia looked up, tears trembling on her lashes.

“I just wanted to borrow Olivia’s handkerchief…” she sobbed. “But Olivia yelled at me and shoved me… I really didn’t mean to.”

I shook with anger. “I didn’t!”

I pointed at the silk soaked in filthy water, my voice hoarse.

“That was my mother’s! I’m not giving it to her!”

Noah’s face darkened like storm clouds.

And I understood it.

In his world, the “truth” was never important. What mattered was who needed an explanation.

I didn’t explain anymore.

I bent down and fished the two handkerchiefs out, my fingers numb with dirty water, yet I gripped them like my last shred of dignity.

I turned and left, taking them to the bathroom, washing them over and over.

I thought that was the end of it.

But that night, footsteps woke me.

I opened my eyes—and realized I was standing at the top of the stairs.

Not that I’d “walked out.”

It felt like I’d been dragged there. My legs were weak, my head stuffed with cotton.

A medicinal smell.

I caught a faint, bitter medicinal smell.

My vision swam, but my hearing was razor-sharp.

One of the bodyguards sounded hesitant, speaking low. “Noah… don’t you believe Olivia? She said she didn’t do it…”

Noah’s voice drifted over, quiet and hollow.

“Believing isn’t enough.”

He paused for a second, calm in a way that made my blood run cold.

“Only by making Olivia fall will I be able to give my parents and Sophia an answer.”

My whole body locked up.

The next second, dizziness slammed into me.

The world flipped. I heard a dull impact—bone against something hard—like every inch of me shattered and was forced back together.

In the few broken seconds before I blacked out, I remembered what he’d once said, holding me tight—

“Olivia, I’ll always believe you.”

Against reality, it was so absurd it could’ve been a joke.

When I woke again, the chandelier of the guest room was in my eyes.

Strange. Harsh.

I blinked, throat dry and burning, my whole body feeling like it had been taken apart and rebuilt.

Quick footsteps sounded beside the bed.

Noah bent down, grabbed my hand, his face lighting up with that familiar relief.

“Olivia, you’re awake!”