Olivia’s POV
I stord back into the house, my entire body vibrating with rage.
Rage at Maxwell. Rage at the situation. Rage at myself for caring so much.
Why do I even care? Why does it hurt this much?
I forcefully took my seat at the dining table, barely looking the faces around . My parents, Kennedy, Kira, Gabriel, that damn imposter in my clothes.
Everyone was staring, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Maxwell had known who I was this entire ti. Since I’d walked into his office as Olivia, asking for love advice about his best friend. He’d known I was Kennedy’s sister. Known about my family. Known everything.
And he’d still been cruel.
The mory of every cold word, every dismissive look, every mont he’d made feel small and worthless ca flooding back. Not as Oliver - because he didn’t know about that disguise - but as Olivia. The woman who’d co to him for help and been treated like garbage.
Who does that? Who treats soone like that when they’ve never wronged you...
My chest tightened painfully, and I pressed my hand against it, trying to ease the ache.
Why does it hurt so much? Why?
It wasn’t like my feelings for him had grown or anything. I didn’t have feelings for Maxwell Wellington beyond physical attraction and sexual desires. So why did this betrayal feel like soone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it couldn’t beat properly?
"Olivia?"
My mother called out, her voice disrupting my thoughts. I looked up.
Everyone was staring at . My parents looked concerned and worried, Kennedy was... Kennedy wasn’t in his seat anymore. Kira was watching too, her expression filled with confusion. Gabriel looked concerned but relaxed. And the imposter...
The imposter was studying with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
Right. The imposter. I was going to ask Maxwell about that.
But instead, I’d gotten so angry, so hurt, that I’d forgotten to demand answers about the person literally wearing my alter ego like a costu.
"Where’s Maxwell?" Mom asked gently.
"I don’t know," I mumbled, looking down at the table.
"I’ll go check on him," Gabriel offered, starting to stand.
But Kennedy’s voice cut in from the doorway - he must have just returned from wherever he’d disappeared to. "I’ll do it."
Gabriel settled back into his seat with a slight nod. "Of course."
Kennedy disappeared back outside, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.
Kira cleared her throat, turning her attention to the imposter with a forced smile. "So, Oliver! Tell us about yourself. What’s it like working for Maxwell?"
The imposter - Oliver, or whoever they really were - cleared their throat and launched into what was clearly a rehearsed story.
"I’ve been working for Mr. Wellington for a month now as his personal assistant. It’s been an incredible opportunity."
"He must treat you well then," Mom said warmly.
"Oh, very well," Not-Oliver said with a smile that made want to throw sothing. "Mr. Wellington is an excellent employer."
I couldn’t stop the eye roll. Kira caught my expression and I saw her fighting back a similar reaction.
Excellent employer. Right. Tell that to Oliver - the real Oliver - who’s been terrorized since the very beginning.
None of this made any sense. How had this imposter even gotten here? Did this an I couldn’t go back to being Oliver? What about the search for Mitchell? And most importantly - was I still getting paid my salary this week?
Because if Maxwell thought he could just replace and not pay , he had another thing coming.
"What about your family?" Kira pressed, and I could hear the edge in her voice. She was fishing for inconsistencies. "Any siblings? Parents?"
Not-Oliver’s expression turned somber. "I was orphaned early, unfortunately. Never knew my father - he abandoned my mother after getting her pregnant. It wasn’t until she was on her deathbed that she revealed I was a Hopton."
Oh, please. I scoffed internally. Where did you get that sorry story from?
My phone buzzed in my lap. A text from Kira.
Kira: This is complete BULLSHIT. This imposter might be soone dangerous. How can we let him sit on the sa table with us.
I typed back quickly: We need to do sothing about this. But what?
"Olivia." Mom called out with a warning. "Put your phone away at the table. We have guests. Talk to Gabriel at least."
Reluctantly, I pocketed my phone and turned to Gabriel.
Looking at him was like looking at a slightly different version of Maxwell - after all, they’re best friends. And suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to .
Did Gabriel know too? Was he pretending during our date? Has everyone just been playing this whole ti?
"So," I said, forcing my voice to sound casual, "how’s work been going? It’s been a while."
Gabriel nodded, "Yes, It has. But work has been fine."
"That’s nice to hear."
"How’re things with you?"
"Things are great."
We fell into a casual conversation, but I couldn’t focus. Every response I gave was stiff and monosyllabic, while my mind spun in circles around Maxwell.
Why? If he knew who I was, why was he so cruel? What did I do to deserve being treated like that?
Both at his office and at that restaurant, he had mocked about my outfit. Had humiliated with his words. Had debauched with his mouth. Had looked down on .
Why would soone who knew you, who was friends with your brother, treat you that way?
Unless...
The thought hit like lightning, and I stood up so abruptly my chair scraped backward with a loud screech.
No. No, no, no. It can’t be.
Everyone stopped talking, all eyes turning to .
But I couldn’t see them. Couldn’t hear them. Could only hear Maxwell’s drunken voice from that night echoing in my head.
"Olivia. You ca back. Finally. Why’d you take so long?"
"You ca into my life like this beacon of hope. And I thought... finally. Finally soone who..."
"But you destroyed it. Destroyed everything. That light. Just... gone. You disappeared."
I grabbed the edge of the table, my vision blurring as mories I couldn’t quite grasp flickered through my mind like a damaged film reel.
A boy. Laughter. Soone holding my hand. Running. Group of boys...
And then nothing. A blank space where sothing important should have been.
How could I be his Olivia? The one he’d been searching for? The one he loved so much he’d beco obsessed? The one he hated enough to want to destroy?
The room started spinning, and I heard my mother’s voice as if from very far away.
"Olivia? Sweetheart, are you alright?"
Everyone was standing now, hovering around , reaching for , asking questions I couldn’t process.
Where? When? How could I have forgotten sothing this important?
The front door opened, and I heard Maxwell’s voice before I saw him.
"What’s wrong? What happened?"
He must have seen swaying, must have noticed everyone’s concern, because suddenly he was pushing through my family, his hands reaching for my shoulders.
"Olivia, what’s..."
"Don’t touch !" I yelled at him. "Stay away from !"
Maxwell froze, his hands dropping imdiately. Sothing flashed across his face, but he backed away, moving to the opposite side of the table where he sat next to Kennedy without a word.
Kennedy looked between us, but said nothing.
The spinning slowed. The mories faded back into that frustrating blank space. My breathing gradually returned to normal.
"I’m sorry," I said, my voice shaking as I lowered myself back into my chair. "I’m sorry, I just... I felt dizzy for a mont. Low blood sugar, probably."
But even as I said it, I looked across the table and found Maxwell’s eyes on .
He was watching with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
He knows. He knows that I know.
Or at least that I was starting to suspect.
Sothing was wrong here. Sothing deeper than just Maxwell knowing I was Kennedy’s sister. Sothing that involved the two of us, our past, and mories I couldn’t access.
And I was going to get answers.
Today.
Even if I had to corner Maxwell Wellington and refuse to let him leave until he told everything.
"Are you sure you’re alright, honey?" Mom asked, her hand on my shoulder.
"I’m fine, Mom. Really." I forced a smile. "Just need so water."
Gabriel imdiately stood to get it, but my eyes never left Maxwell’s.
Across the table, he stared back at , his jaw tight, his hands clenched on the table.
And in that mont, I saw sothing in his expression that made my heart stutter.
Fear.
Maxwell, the cold, calculating manipulator who never showed weakness, looked terrified.
What are you hiding? I thought desperately. What happened between us that I can’t rember?
Gabriel returned with water, and I drank it, still maintaining eye contact with Maxwell.
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