Olivia’s POV
As Maxwell had instructed, I spent the entire morning doing everything he’d asked. I booked the appointnt with Tracy Windhill for 1 PM, organized all the case files in perfect order, and created a detailed tiline of Paul Windhill’s last week alive. Every appointnt and every eting during his last days was properly docunted.
When I finished, I gathered the files and approached Maxwell’s desk. He was completely absorbed in his work, pouring over several case docunts with intense focus. His good hand flipped through papers while his injured arm rested in its sling. Even disheveled from all the work, he looked devastatingly handso.
I stood there for a mont, holding the files and pondering whether I should interrupt him. The question that had been burning in my mind all morning felt too personal but I couldn’t shake my curiosity.
Maxwell must have sensed my presence because he spoke without looking up from his work.
"Mr. Hopton, what are you doing still standing there? If you have sothing to say, say it."
The question burst out of before I could stop myself. "Sir, I was wondering... why are you taking on this case personally? You’re way above handling individual murder cases. You could easily delegate this to any other associates. Is there sothing special about it?"
That’s when he finally looked up from his work. He leaned back in his chair and fixed with an intense stare.
What ca out of his mouth next was the last thing I expected to hear.
"Tracy Windhill is my ex."
My mouth fell open as I stared at him in complete shock. "What?"
Maxwell’s expression remained completely neutral, as if he hadn’t dropped a bombshell that just changed everything about this case.
"Close your mouth, Mr. Hopton," he said dryly, already turning his attention back to his files. "And go back to your table. We have work to do."
But I couldn’t move. I just stood there, processing this revelation while my mind raced with a thousand questions.
*His ex? Maxwell’s ex-girlfriend was accused of murdering her husband? And he was defending her?*
"Mr. Hopton," Maxwell’s voice cut through my shock, "I said go back to your table."
"Yes, sir," I managed weakly, setting the files on his desk with shaking hands.
"And one more thing," he said, stopping in my tracks, "No one must hear about that little piece of information."
I nodded, then quickly returned to my small desk, but couldn’t concentrate on anything. My gaze kept drifting back to Maxwell every five seconds, my imagination running wild.
*What did Tracy look like? Was she beautiful? Sophisticated? Like Sabrina? Was she the kind of woman who could capture Maxwell Wellington’s heart? Why had they broken up? And most importantly - was he still in love with her?*
The questions tornted as I tried to focus on my tasks. Every ti Maxwell turned a page or reached for his coffee, I found myself studying his expression, searching for clues about his feelings for this woman.
*Is that why he was so determined to prove her innocence? Not because of justice, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of the woman he loved going to prison? Or worse - being executed?*
The thought made sothing twist painfully in my chest.
*Why do I care if Maxwell is still in love with his ex? It’s not like Oliver Hopton has any chance with him anyway. And it’s definitely not like Olivia Hopton has any chance either - he thinks she’s toxic and manipulative, and he obviously hates her.*
The way I was feeling right now, I hadn’t even felt this way with Sabrina yesterday. What was wrong with ? Why do I care so much about my boss’s love life?
I watched as he worked with strong determination, his jaw set in concentration, occasionally making notes in the margins of docunts. He looked like a man on a mission. A man who would move heaven and earth to save soone he cared about.
*If I ever get into trouble, will he do the sa for ? Focus on proving my innocence with so much dedication?*
Of course not. To Maxwell, I was either an annoying assistant who couldn’t drive properly, or a toxic woman who was trying to manipulate his best friend. I was nobody worth saving.
The morning crawled by at an agonizing slow pace. Every minute felt like an hour as I sat there, pretending to work while actually obsessing over Tracy Windhill and what she ant to Maxwell.
Finally, rcifully, it was lunchti.
I practically leaped from my chair, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the office.
"Sir," I said, pausing at Maxwell’s desk, "would you like to bring you anything for lunch?"
Maxwell didn’t look up from his work. "No, I’m good."
His dismissive tone was unexpected, and it made instantly guilty. Everything that happened yesterday was all my fault, and the disasters must have really angered him, because he was barely acknowledging my existence today. But he had to be hungry - he’d been working tirelessly on Tracy’s case since morning, barely touching his coffee.
*He’s probably too distracted thinking about his ex to eat,* I thought bitterly.
"Of course, sir," I said quietly. "I’ll be back in an hour."
As I left the office, I felt a complex mix of emotions twisting inside . He’s cold and angry towards and I completely understood. I did grab his balls, and almost damaged his car.
*Maybe I should get him a sandwich anyway,* I decided as I walked toward the elevators. *He needs to keep his strength up if he’s going to save his precious Tracy.*
I figured Patricia might be in the company cafeteria, probably looking out for . I wasn’t in the mood for her sexual advances so I decided to go to Taylor’s Café instead.
At Taylor’s cafe - after having my lunch peacefully - I ordered a turkey sandwich and another black coffee for Maxwell, despite his dismissal of my offer. If he was going to work himself to death over his ex-girlfriend, the least I could do was make sure he ate sothing.
*Why do I care so much?* I wondered as I waited for the order. *Why does the thought of Maxwell being in love with soone else make sad?*
I shook my head vigorously, as I left the cafe. That was a dangerous zone.
By the ti I got back to the office building, it was already 1 PM. Lunch hour was officially over, and I was running late. I hurried through the lobby and into the elevator while checking my watch anxiously.
*Maxwell is going to kill for being late. Especially today, when he’s already in such a mood.*
I rushed down the hallway toward his office, my heart pounding.
I’d just opened the office door and was stepping inside when I stopped dead in my tracks.
The coffee cup and sandwich bag slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a loud crash that echoed throughout the office.
Right there in front of , pressed against the desk was Maxwell kissing a woman.
And the woman wasn’t Sabrina.
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