Stranger in my Ass Chapter 16

Olivia’s POV

I staggered out of Maxwell’s office, his final words still ringing in my ears like a death sentence.

*Get out of my office, and don’t co back.*

The hallway seed blurry before , and I felt like I was walking through water. My legs moved aimlessly, carrying forward while my mind remained frozen in shock. Fired. I’d been fired. On my first day.

I kept walking, my feet sohow finding their way to what had been my office just yesterday. The naplate outside still read "Oliver Hopton, Junior Associate" - a very bitter reminder of how quickly everything had fallen apart.

All because of one evil man.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, feeling completely numb. The office was exactly as I’d left it - a few personal items scattered on the desk, a coffee mug I’d brought from ho, so legal pads with my notes from the gan rger. Evidence of a life that had lasted less than a week.

I moved toward the desk, my mind completely detached from my body. I felt like I was watching soone else’s life fall apart, not my own. My hands moved without conscious thought, gathering my few belongings.

I was so lost in my own numbness that I didn’t even notice when soone entered the office behind .

"Oliver?"

A hand landed gently on my shoulder, and I flinched violently at the contact, jerking away so quickly that I nearly knocked the bag containing Olivia’s clothes to the ground. My heart hamred in my chest as I spun around, terrified that Alex might sohow feel how soft my skin was under the dress shirt, might detect sothing feminine about my body language.

"Sorry," Alex said, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I didn’t an to startle you. I just wanted to check on you."

I took a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. "I’m fine," I lied, my voice coming out rougher than usual. "Just... collecting my things."

His expression was filled with concern and sothing that might have been anger - but not directed at .

"Oliver, listen to ," he said firmly. "You need to calm down. Don’t let Max’s words get to you right now."

I stared at him, confused. "What do you an?"

"He was angry," Alex explained, running a hand through his hair. "Not at you, specifically. He was just... transferring his aggression to you. You were the convenient target."

A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe this wasn’t really about my performance. Maybe Maxwell had just been having a bad day and I’d caught the brunt of it.

"What could have made him that angry?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Alex sighed, leaning against my desk. "His girlfriend. She was supposed to co in from Europe this weekend, but she decided to shift it to next weekend because of so business reason."

I felt my mouth drop open. The shock hit like a physical blow. Maxwell Wellington had a girlfriend? The sa man who had slowly destroyed my confidence, who had looked at with such hate and contempt, who seed incapable of normal human feelings - that man was in a relationship?

"He has a girlfriend?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Alex chuckled at my obvious surprise. "Yes, he has. And he’s quite possessive of her."

I nodded numbly, trying to process this information. I attempted to picture Maxwell acting soft and tender with a woman, maybe bringing her flowers or holding her hand, but the image wouldn’t form in my mind. It was like trying to imagine a robot expressing emotion.

But then again, I thought wryly, it would be weird if a love doctor wasn’t in a relationship. The irony wasn’t lost on - the man who had destroyed my romantic hopes was apparently successful in his own love life.

"I think you should try talking to his brother Damien," Alex said, breaking through my thoughts. "Maybe he’ll talk so sense into him."

"Really?" I asked, the spark of hope growing brighter. "You think he’d listen to his brother?"

"Yes," Alex nodded confidently. "Damien has a lot of influence with Max. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Damien."

I felt a surge of confidence. Maybe this wasn’t over. Maybe I could salvage sothing from this disaster.

"Where would I find him?" I asked.

"His office is on the twenty-eighth floor," Alex replied. "Take the elevator down two floors and ask the receptionist. She’ll point you in the right direction."

I grabbed my bag, suddenly energized by the possibility of redemption. "Thank you, Alex. Really. I don’t know what I would have done without your help."

"Don’t ntion it," he said with a warm smile. "Good luck with Damien."

I practically ran to the elevator, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and hope. As the elevator descended to the twenty-eighth floor, I tried to organize my thoughts. I needed to be calm, professional, convincing. I needed to make Damien Wellington believe that firing had been a mistake.

The twenty-eighth floor was smaller than the executive level, with a more casual atmosphere. The receptionist, a young pretty woman, looked up as I approached.

"I’m looking for Damien Wellington," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course," she smiled. "His office is just down the hall, second door on the right. He’s in a eting right now, but it should be ending soon."

I thanked her and made my way to Damien’s office. The door was closed, and I could hear the muffled sound of voices inside. I stood in the hallway, rehearsing what I would say, trying to calm my racing heart.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and two n erged, shaking hands with soone I couldn’t see. They nodded politely at as they passed, and then I heard a voice from inside the office.

"Co in!"

I stepped into the office and found myself face-to-face with Damien Wellington - for the second ti since I started working here. I didn’t have the chance to study him before, but now I could see the striking resemblance. He had the sa piercing green eyes as Maxwell, the sa strong jawline, the sa commanding presence. But where Maxwell’s expression was usually cold and hard, Damien’s face was warm and approachable.

"What can I do for you, Oliver?" he asked, without looking up from his computer.

"Mr. Wellington, thank you for seeing ."

"Please, call Damien," he said, looking up for the first ti. "And please, take a seat. You looked exhausted."

I sat down across from him, grateful for his empathy. This particular Wellington male was truly kind. "I am, Sir. That’s why I’m here."

Damien settled back into his chair, his expression turning serious. "I heard about what happened upstairs. My brother can be difficult when he’s in a mood."

"I understand he was upset about his girlfriend," I said carefully. "But I need you to know that I’m not usually late. This was a genuine ergency."

Damien nodded. "Tell what happened."

I dived into the story I’d quickly constructed in the elevator. "My elderly neighbor - she’s like a grandmother to - she fell in her apartnt this morning and couldn’t get up. I had to help her to the hospital and make sure she was okay before I could leave. I know I should have called, but in the panic, I just... I forgot."

The lie ca out easily, and I could see Damien’s expression softening with sympathy.

"That’s terrible," he said. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She’ll be fine," I replied, feeling more confident in my story. "Just a sprained ankle. But I couldn’t leave her there alone."

Damien leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. "Oliver, I want you to know that I think my brother’s reaction was completely inappropriate. Firing soone for being late once, especially under those circumstances, is not how we normally operate at this firm."

Relief flooded through . "So you’ll talk to him?"

"I will," Damien promised. "But I want you to understand that Max is under a lot of pressure right now. He’s been working eighteen-hours a day, he’s stressed about several major cases, and yes, he’s disappointed about his girlfriend’s change of plans. None of that excuses his behavior, but it might explain it."

I nodded eagerly. "I understand. I just want the chance to prove myself."

Damien studied for a mont, and I had the unsettling feeling that he was seeing more than I wanted him to. But when he spoke, his voice was kind.

"Here’s what I want you to do," he said. "Go ho. Take the weekend to recover from this morning’s drama.. Co back Monday morning at 8:30 sharp, and I’ll have talked to my brother by then."

"Really?" I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Really," Damien confird. "I can’t promise anything, but I think once Max has had ti to cool down, he’ll realize he made a mistake. Besides, I interviewed you personally, and I gave you this job because I trusted in your capabilities. I still do."

I stood up, feeling lighter than I had all morning. "Thank you, Damien. I can’t tell you how much this ans to ."

"Don’t ntion it," he said positively.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without my voice breaking. I headed for the door, my heart full of hope for the first ti all day.

As I walked back to the elevator, I felt like I could breathe again. Maybe this nightmare wasn’t over. Maybe I’d get another chance to prove myself, to show that I belonged here.

The elevator doors closed, and I leaned against the wall, finally allowing myself to smile. Monday couldn’t co fast enough.

Oh, shit! I just rembered I still have my mother to deal with.