Olivia’s POV
The next few days were the hardest I had ever worked in my life. Wellington and Sons operated at a relentless pace that made my previous job look like a vacation. Clients stread in constantly, docunts piled up faster than I could process them, and the senior partners expected nothing short of perfection.
Despite the exhaustion, I couldn’t shake the unsettling encounter in the restroom. That voice, that "Hey, Livvy" - it had been the sa person from the concert. I knew, because he was the only one that has ever called by that na. No one has ever called Livvy before. But the most terrifying thing about it was that the stranger knew things about . For him to show up at my company dinner, he knew my true identity. He was watching . And the thought actually made my skin crawl. Who was he and what did he want? Sotis I look at my colleagues suspiciously, but it couldn’t be any of them, because I’d already encountered the stranger while still at Harry & Associates.
But asides the whole creepy thing, I was surprised to find that I hadn’t found the ti to moon over Alex recently.
For months, he’d been the center of my thoughts, but now, working directly with him, I was too busy to stare dreamily at his perfect face. Instead, I was deep in case files, legal precedents, and client etings. But despite everything, my feelings for him were still strong, and it showed in the way my heartbeat quickened whenever I see him.
One Wednesday afternoon, Alex stopped by my office, leaning lazily against the door fra.
"Big news," he said, looking excited. "The CEO is back from his business trip to Europe. He’ll be rejoining the firm tomorrow."
I frowned, confused. "I thought Damian Wellington was the CEO?"
Alex burst out laughing, the sound making my stomach flip in that familiar tingling way.
"Damian? No, he’s just the younger brother who likes to play boss when the real CEO is away. Damian’s technically a managing partner, but Max is the true head of Wellington and Sons."
A knot of anxiety ford in my stomach. Another complication. Another person to fool.
"Should I be worried?" I asked, trying to keep my voice deep.
Alex shook his head. "Not at all. Max is actually my best friend - we were college roommates. He can be intense, a bit unconventional sotis, but he’s brilliant. You’ll like him."
I nodded, not entirely reassured. "Looking forward to eting him, then."
The day went on as usual, and when it finally ended, I was extrely exhausted and tired.
I returned to my apartnt, my shoulders aching from the compression binder and my face irritated from the adhesives. I’d barely closed the door behind when my phone began to ring.
The caller ID displayed "Queen of Drama." I sighed heavily. My mother. I contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but experience had taught that my mother would simply keep calling until I answered.
"Might as well get it over with," I muttered, swiping to accept the call.
"Olivia! Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you all day," my mother’s voice ca through.
"Hi, Mom. Sorry, I’ve been swamped at work."
"Work, work, work. That’s all you ever talk about. You know what’s more important than work? Family. And I an the family you have refused to start."
I closed my eyes, already knowing where this conversation was headed. "Mom..."
"When are you getting married, Olivia? All your cousins are married with children already. Even little Tina is engaged, and she’s four years younger than you!"
"Mom, I’m only twenty-eight," I protested, slipping off my uncomfortable shoes and collapsing onto the couch.
"Only twenty-eight? Only? That’s practically thirty! Your eggs are getting older by the minute!"
"That’s not how biology works..."
"In my day, won your age had at least two children already. You’re wilting away, Olivia. Wilting!"
"Mom!" I finally exploded, unable to contain my frustration after the day I’d had. "You’re only forty-eight! Stop acting like you’re from so ancient generation where won got married at eighteen!"
There was a shocked silence on the other end of the line.
"Well," my mother finally said, her voice filled with hurt, and actually sounding like she was about to cry. "I can see you’re in one of your moods."
I sighed, imdiately feeling guilty. My mom was drama itself. "I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just been a really long day."
"It’s always a long day with you. That’s why you need soone to co ho to, soone to rub your feet and make you dinner."
"I don’t think that’s what husbands do these days," I muttered.
"They do if you train them right," my mother replied. "Now, what about that handso lawyer you were always talking about? The one you had a crush on?"
I laughed bitterly. "Alex? Yeah, that’s... complicated."
"Complicated how? Just ask him out!"
If only my mother knew the half of it - that I was currently masquerading as a man to work alongside my crush, who still barely noticed , while being stalked by a mysterious person who knew my secret.
"It’s a long story, Mom. Really long."
"Well, I have ti."
"But I don’t," I said, glancing at the clock. "I need to get so sleep. Big day tomorrow."
"Fine, fine. But promise you’ll at least think about dating again? There’s a nice son of one of my book club ladies..."
"Goodnight, Mom. Love you."
"Love you too, my wilting flower."
I ended the call and tossed my phone aside. I didn’t bother checking on Kira as I dragged my exhausted body to bed and instantly fell asleep.
*************
The next morning, I was in my office when Patricia’s voice ca over the intercom system: "All associates and partners, please gather in the main lobby at 10 AM to welco back our CEO, Mr. Maxwell Wellington."
At 9:55, I joined the assembling crowd, straightening my tie and checking that my facial adhesives were secure. The firm’s employees ford a receiving line, with the most senior partners at the front and junior associates like "Oliver" toward the back.
At exactly 10 AM, the elevator doors opened, and conversations hushed as a tall figure stepped into the lobby.
My heart stopped.
No.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
The man walking confidently toward the assembled crowd, accepting handshakes and backslaps from the senior partners, was unmistakably Dr. Heart - the "arrogant relationship coach" who had told I wasn’t in Alex’s league.
Dr. Heart was Maxwell Wellington. The CEO of Wellington and Sons.
I was dood.
As if sensing my panic, his piercing green eyes scanned the crowd, moving past faces until they locked directly on mine.
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