10. OLIVIA
CHAPTER 10
OLIVIA
I wake up to the shrill buzz of my phone vibrating against the nightstand. My head feels heavy, my eyes gritty from a restless sleep. I blink at the screen, trying to process the slew of missed calls: Mom, Ethan, Jax.
Groaning, I swipe to silence the persistent notifications. I debate which fire to put out first, but there’s really no contest. Mom always wins the battle for immediate attention.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, my voice hoarse as I sink back into my pillows.
“Olivia Madeline Sutton Chase!” Her tone is sharp enough to cut glass. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?”
I sit up straighter, fumbling for a coherent response. “I—uh—meant to call you, I just… I’ve been busy.”
“Busy causing chaos, apparently!” she snaps. “Honestly, Olivia, do you ever think before you act?”
I freeze. Chaos? What is she talking about? “Wait, what do you mean? Who told you I’m back?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Maybe the local news? Or perhaps everyone in this town who’s seen it?”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “What? What’s on the news?”
She huffs dramatically. “Why don’t you turn on the TV and find out for yourself?”
I scramble out of bed, my heart pounding, and grab the remote. The TV flickers to life, and I flip to the local news channel. It doesn’t take long to find what she’s talking about. There, on the screen, is none other than Charlie Green . She’s seated against a backdrop of a grainy cellphone video of our blowout at the restaurant last night. My stomach twists as I watch her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her voice trembling with theatrical indignation.
“…never felt so humiliated in my life,” she says, sniffling for added effect. “I was merely trying to engage with them about their project, and they—” She pauses for dramatic emphasis. “—assaulted me. All of them. It was terrifying.”
I stare, slack-jawed, as the camera cuts back to the anchor, who nods sympathetically. “Truly a shocking incident, Charlie. Thank you for bravely sharing your story. And for those just tuning in, the individuals involved are allegedly associated with a local online channel called Love Lab . ”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “This woman is unbelievable . ”
The segment continues, with Charlie playing the part of the wounded victim, all while snippets of the altercation flash across the screen. One clip even shows me mid-soup dump, looking utterly unrepentant. I groan loudly.
“Are you seeing this, Olivia?” Mom’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and accusing. “I raised you better than this! Dumping soup on someone? What were you thinking?”
“She provoked me!” I argue, pacing the room. “You didn’t hear the garbage she was spewing, Mom. Besides, the soup wasn’t even as hot as she’s claiming it was.”
“Garbage or not, you don’t go around making a scene like that! Especially not in public!”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to rein in my rising frustration. “I’ll handle it, okay? I’ll figure out a way to fix this.”
“You’d better,” she snaps. “Because the last thing I need is my friends calling me to gossip about you.” She hangs up with a decisive click, leaving me standing there, staring at the TV as Charlie continues her melodramatic recounting of last night’s events.
I shake my head, muttering to myself. “Unbelievable.” My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen to see Ethan’s name flashing. Great. Just great.
But before I deal with him, I need coffee. Lots of it. And maybe a moment to figure out how in the world I’m going to clean up this mess.
The crisp autumn air does little to cool me off, though I welcome the bite against my skin. It’s the kind of morning where even caffeine feels like an afterthought, but my feet lead me to the coffee shop anyway.
The café is tucked into the corner of the street, its red-bricked exterior softened by cascading ivy. A little chalkboard sign out front boasts “Pumpkin Spiced Everything!” and “Locally Roasted Joy.” Inside, the scent of cinnamon and fresh coffee hits me like a warm hug. The chatter of early risers mixes with the hum of a cappuccino machine. It’s cozy but bustling, with eclectic furniture that looks like it was picked out at various garage sales—a patchwork quilt of charm.
I’m halfway through the line, scrolling through my phone and trying not to glare at the Love Lab notifications blowing up my social media, when my phone rings. I see Colin—Death Crunch flash on the screen. My partner. Great.
I swipe to answer. “Hey, Colin.”
“Olivia,” he says, his voice both cautious and concerned. “Is everything okay with you?”
I sigh, not knowing where he’s going with this. “Yeah, why?”
There’s a pause, then he clears his throat. “Uh, so… my mom sent me a link this morning.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. “What link, Colin?”
“Something about you… and soup. And a local reporter?” He hesitates, probably gauging how close I am to losing it. “She said, and I quote, ‘Your boss made the local news. Is this the kind of leadership you’re inspired by?’”
I groan loudly, earning a few curious glances from the people in line. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” he replies, but there’s a faint hint of amusement in his tone. “I mean, it was a bold move, but…”
“Don’t,” I warn, cutting him off. “Don’t even joke about this, Colin. The last thing I need is for this to get out any more than it already has.”
“I get it,” he says quickly. “I haven’t told anyone else. And I’ll make sure no one at Death Crunch hears about it.”
“Good.” I glance around the coffee shop, lowering my voice. “Because if our rivals catch wind of this, they’ll turn it into ammo. I can’t let them have that.”
“You have my word,” Colin says, his tone serious now. “But, Liv, are you sure you’re okay? This doesn’t sound like you.”
I hesitate, fiddling with the strap of my bag. “I’m fine, Colin. Really. Just… dealing with some stuff. I’ll be back to normal soon.”
“Okay,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Call me if you need anything. And try to stay out of trouble, will you?”
“Noted,” I mutter, hanging up just as it’s my turn to order.
As I step up to the counter, I feel it—the subtle shift in the air, the way people’s gazes flicker toward me and then quickly away. Someone behind me whispers loudly enough for me to catch it.
“Isn’t that the girl from Love Lab ?”
“No way. The one who threw soup? Yeah, that’s definitely her.”
I pretend not to hear, though my cheeks burn. Another voice, softer but still audible, pipes up, “She’s… bigger than I thought.”
I clench my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the barista. “Just a black coffee. Medium.”
“Coming right up,” he says, giving no indication that he recognizes me, for which I’m grateful.
I step aside, arms crossed, and wait for my order. The whispers continue, little snippets floating through the air.
“...kind of a mess, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but the soup thing was hilarious…”
“...surprised someone like her is on that kind of show…” “...are fat people doing dating shows now?...”
The words sting more than I want to admit, and I find myself gripping my phone tighter. This is exactly why I keep my personal and professional lives separate. And now, thanks to Charlie freaking Green, it’s all bleeding together.
The barista calls my name, and I grab my coffee, not even bothering to add sugar or cream. I need to get out of here before I lose it. As I push open the door, the crisp morning air hits me, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
Iversteen was supposed to feel like home. But right now, it’s nothing but a reminder of why I left in the first place.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I step out of the coffee shop. It’s Marcus again. He only ever calls when things are urgent—or terrible.
“Marcus,” I answer, already bracing myself.
“You need to come down to the police station,” he says without preamble. His voice is tight, and my stomach drops.
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s Charlie Green. She’s filed a police report against us.”
I stop dead in my tracks, clutching the phone tighter. “She what ?”
“She’s alleging threats and intimidation. And her lawyer’s filed for an injunction to remove the restaurant episode, claiming it depicts her in a false light.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “That woman is insane,” I snap. “She came at us, not the other way around!”
“I know,” Marcus says, sounding just as frustrated. “But we need to deal with it. Can you get here soon?”
I glance at the time. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
The station is every bit as grim as I remember it from years ago: a cacophony of ringing phones, raised voices, and the clatter of keyboards. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, washing the space in a dull, lifeless glow. I had to come down here with Mom after my Dad died for some formalities, and I’ve hated this place ever since.
Marcus is leaning against the wall near the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. He looks up when I approach, his expression grim.
“Alright,” I say, keeping my voice low. “What’s the deal?”
“They’ve got her report on file,” Marcus explains as we make our way to the back. “She’s claiming we threatened her and caused her emotional distress.”
“She was the one harassing us ,” I say, my voice rising.
“Exactly, but her lawyer’s clever. They’re pushing for an injunction to take the episode down before it gains more traction.”
We enter a small, stuffy room where Ethan and Jax are already seated. A detective sits behind a desk, his expression neutral as he clicks through something on his computer.
“Miss Chase,” he greets me with a nod, his tone detached. “I assume you’ve been informed of the complaint?”
“Barely,” I reply, taking a seat next to Jax.
The detective folds his hands. “Ms. Green has alleged that during your encounter at the restaurant, she was subjected to threats and intimidation. She claims the incident has caused her emotional distress.”
“That’s absurd,” I say, leaning forward. “She came over to our table, ambushed us with questions, and refused to leave.”
The detective raises a hand. “I’m just here to document the facts, ma’am.”
“Sure,” I mutter. “Facts.”
He clears his throat. “Additionally, her legal team has filed for an injunction to remove the video from your channel. They’re arguing it portrays her in a false light.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “That video is our property. She came into the frame voluntarily. She doesn’t get to dictate what we do with it.”
“That’s something for the courts to decide,” the detective replies. “In the meantime, I suggest you all be cautious about further interactions with Ms. Green.”
“I have no problem with that, sir,” I say. “In fact, if I see her face ever again it will be too soon.”
The officer sighs. “Off the record, we’ve had her stirring trouble before. Unfortunately, she knows how to work the law. Her husband is a hot-shot lawyer in the city. My advice would be to make sure you keep your business to yourself.”
“In our line of business, that’s hardly possible,” Jax says.
“No,” I say. “I know exactly what we need. We need a lawyer.”
Later that evening, we’re all crammed into Ethan’s apartment, sitting around his coffee table with laptops and mugs of lukewarm coffee. My lawyer, a no-nonsense man named Carl, is on Zoom, his face taking up most of the screen.
“Olivia, I’ve reviewed the situation,” Carl begins. “This injunction is no joke. If they succeed, you could be facing serious legal and financial consequences.”
I fold my arms. “So what are my options?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything for now. I’ve reached out to a local contact to help coordinate on the ground,” Carl says. “If necessary, I’ll fly out myself.”
His eyes narrow slightly as he leans forward. “But my advice? Olivia, consider walking away from this project altogether. This Charlie Green situation is a fire you don’t need to put yourself in the middle of.”
Silence stretches between us like a taut wire. Ethan exchanges a look with Jax, and Marcus stares at the screen, unreadable.
“Walk away?” I echo, my voice low.
“Yes,” Carl says. “You have a company to think about—a future. You’re in the early stages of going public. Why risk everything over this?”
Something inside me bristles at his words. “So your advice is to give up? Let her win?”
Carl sighs, his tone softening. “My advice is to think strategically. You don’t have to fight every battle, Olivia. Sometimes, stepping back is the smarter move.”
I nod stiffly, my throat tight. “Thanks for your input, Carl. I’ll think about it.”
The call ends with a curt goodbye, and the room plunges into an awkward silence. I glance around at the three men. Ethan looks like he wants to say something, but he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. Jax leans back in his chair, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read, and Marcus frowns, deep in thought.
I exhale sharply, my stomach twisting into knots. The lawyer’s words echo in my head, weighing down every breath. Before I can respond, Ethan shifts forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He looks directly at me, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it.
“It’s okay if you want to leave,” he says, his voice quiet but sure. “We’ll understand, Liv. You’ve already done so much for us.”
I blink, stunned. Ethan’s words cut through my frustration, disarming me. He’s not pushing, not fighting me—just giving me an out. For a moment, the room fades into the background, and all I see is him. His brown eyes meet mine and a jolt goes through me.
“I…” I falter, feeling the weight of his gaze. My fingers tighten around the coffee mug as I try to steady myself.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Ethan adds gently, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
“No,” I say, my voice firmer this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A flicker of relief crosses his face, but he doesn’t say anything. I turn to the others, pushing past the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“If there’s one thing I’ve never done,” I say, my voice steadier now, “it’s back down from a challenge. I’m not about to start now.”
“Good,” Jax says with a crooked grin. “I was about to lose all respect for you.”
I roll my eyes at him, but a small smile tugs at my lips. Marcus nods approvingly, looking a little less tense, while Ethan sits back, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
“So,” I say, sitting up straighter and glancing around the room, “let’s start planning the next episode. Charlie Green wants a fight? She’s going to get one.”
My eyes dart back to Ethan for a split second, catching the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. That jolt I felt earlier? It hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s only grown stronger.