Chapter 23 Olivia
OLIVIA
I pick up the phone Stefan gave me and retreat to the deck, as far from the cabin as I can get without actually jumping into the ocean. Which, honestly, I’m considering.
The sun’s higher now, warm on my face. I sit on one of the padded benches and stare at the box in my hands.
Just open it, you coward. Turn it on. Face the world.
The plastic wrapping comes off easily. The phone itself is sleek, expensive, state-of-the-art. I hold down the power button and watch the screen light up.
Within seconds, notifications start flooding in. Messages, missed calls, voicemails. The digital equivalent of a dam breaking.
Camille’s name appears over and over. I tap on her messages first.
Where are you???
Liv, seriously, call me
Your mom keeps calling the clinic. She sounds pissed.
Please just let me know you’re alive
I type back quickly: I’m fine. Sorry for going dark.
Her reply comes almost immediately, like she’s been living by the phone just so she doesn’t miss me: THANK GOD. Where the hell have you been?
Long story. I’ll explain when I see you.
You freaking better. I’m dying here.
I close out of Camille’s messages and scroll to my mother’s. Thirty missed calls. Seven voicemails. My stomach twists.
I tap the first voicemail.
“Olivia, it’s your mother. Call me back immediately.”
The second one: “I don’t know why you’re ignoring me, but it’s incredibly rude. I raised you better than this.”
The third voicemail starts playing and my mother’s voice fills my ear, warm and congratulatory in a way that makes my skin crawl because of just how fucking fake I know it is.
“Darling, I just heard the news from Brian Thompson. The Mass Gen board chose you for the partnership! I’m so proud. This is exactly what you’ve been working toward.”
Honestly, I almost forgot about that. The board chose me. I got the partnership.
This is the moment I spent so long waiting for. No, not just waiting—working my ass off for. Hoping for. Quite literally dreaming for.
Everything I’ve sweat, bled, and cried to make happen has finally paid off. But all I feel is hollow and sick.
Because I know it’s not really about me. It’s about Stefan. His money, his influence, his name attached to mine.
I keep listening.
“As lovely as this honor is, darling, I hope you don’t assume it means you need to put your career first. I hope you don’t think it means you don’t need a man because trust me, Stefan Safonov is no mere man.
He’s a god in this city and he can do wonders for your career.
So think smart and be strategic. Like I taught you. ”
Think smart. Be strategic. My mother’s entire life philosophy distilled into two sentences.
Honestly, props to her on the brevity. She should sell bumper stickers.
I think about Natalia. When she sat across from me and told me her side of the story, the pain in her eyes when she talked about losing everything… I felt that. It touched my soul.
My mother would never understand that kind of pain. She’s never let herself feel anything that deeply, not once in her entire successful life.
I close my eyes and listen to the rest of the messages. It’s an endless lecture of more backhanded congratulations, more advice about leveraging my relationship with Stefan, more reminders to be smart in this way and that way.
By the time I reach the last voicemail, I’m nauseous.
I text my mother: Got your messages. Thanks for the congrats.
The phone rings before I can even set it down.
“Olivia. Finally.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I lost my phone. Just got a new one.”
“Well, that explains it. Did you hear about the partnership?”
“I did. It’s great.”
“Great? It’s spectacular. Do you know how many people were competing for this? Rebecca Walsh is going to be beside herself.”
The mention of Walsh’s name makes my jaw clench. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be modest, darling. This is a huge accomplishment. You should be celebrating.”
“I am. I’m just... processing.”
“Processing what? This is everything you wanted.”
Everything I wanted. Right.
“Mom, I want to tell you something. I’m… I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Then: “What?”
“I’m pregnant. With Stefan’s baby.”
More silence. I can hear my mother breathing on the other end.
Then she starts laughing.
It’s not a happy laugh. It’s calculating. Triumphant.
“Oh, how wonderful, darling! I can’t believe you actually did this. Now, he’s truly in it with you. No getting out now.”
My stomach plummets to the ocean below. “What?”
“You’ve locked him down. A baby is the ultimate commitment, especially for a man like him. He’ll have to stay involved, keep supporting your career. This is brilliant.”
Horror blossoms low in my gut. “That’s not... I didn’t do this to trap him.”
“Of course not. But it doesn’t matter why you did it. What matters is the result.” Her voice is warm, approving, and it makes me want to throw up every bite of croissant I took. “You’re set now, Olivia. The partnership, the baby, Stefan. Everything’s falling into place.”
“I have to go.”
“Wait, we should discuss—”
I end the call.
My hands are shaking. My mother’s words echo in my head, each one a little knife carving me into pieces.
You’ve locked him down.
No getting out now.
Is that what she thinks? That I got pregnant on purpose? That this whole thing is some elaborate scheme to trap a billionaire?
Stefan didn’t react like that. I thought he’d either be pissed or grimly triumphant. But it was more… What even was it? Pure?
He didn’t think I trapped him. He was happy.
Wasn’t he?
God, I can’t think straight. I need to move. To do something, anything. The ocean looks inviting, cool and blue and endless. Before I can second-guess just what the hell I’m doing, I strip down to my underwear, climb over the yacht’s railing, and leap.
The water is cold when I hit it. Shockingly cold. But it feels good, feels like it’s washing away my mother’s voice, Stefan’s anger, my own stupid mistakes. It’s like a baptism and I’m being born again with none of the baggage that has dogged me throughout this life.
I float on my back and stare at the sky. Clouds drift past, lazy and unbothered by human drama. I don’t know how long I watch them. Long enough that I start to forget all the little things.
My work first.
Then my family.
Then Stefan.
Then little bits of me start to sail away, too. I forget my name. The sound of my own voice. I let myself melt into the ocean, and I’ve never felt freer.
The waves rock me gently at first. Then less gently. When I finally drag myself back to the present, I realize I’ve actually ended up kinda far away from the yacht. And I’m starting to notice there’s a tide, a rip current, a bit of a nasty one, and it’s accelerating me farther and farther away.
The waves get rougher. One crashes over my face and I sputter, swallowing salt water. Another one follows, then another.
I try to swim back toward the yacht, but the current is stronger than I expected. My arms burn. My legs feel heavy.
All the peace of a moment ago is gone. This was stupid. So, so stupid. This was—
Another wave smacks me in the eyes and I’m blinded.
The current wraps a hand around my ankle and tugs me down and I go screaming below the surface.
The scream gets me a lungful of salt water, and I’m thrashing, it’s cold and it stings, I’m drowning, I’m sinking into the blue, it hurts, it all hurts, my baby, my baby!
, more hands grabbing me, more ocean hands, pulling me down, down, down, more hands, more, more, then—
Wait. That’s not the imaginary hand of a rip current yanking me to the sea floor. That’s a real hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Stefan.
He’s yelling, his face twisted with fear and fury. He hauls me toward the yacht with powerful strokes, one arm locked around me.
“I was just s-s-swimming,” I gasp.
“You were fifty feet from the yacht in choppy water. What if you’d gone under? What if—” His voice cracks. “What if I hadn’t seen you?”
We reach the yacht. He practically throws me onto the ladder, then climbs up behind me, his hands on my waist to steady me.
On deck, he spins me around. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Is that what this is?”
“No, I just needed to cool off.” I don’t know what I’m saying, though. My throat is sore from sea salt and my head is a waterlogged mess.
“Cool off? You could have died, Olivia. You and the baby.”
His hands are on my shoulders now, gripping tight enough to bruise. He’s soaking wet, his chest heaving, his eyes wild.
“I’m okay,” I say softly. “Stefan, I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You’re reckless and stupid and—”
I grab his face and force him to look at me. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
His breathing remains angry and ragged, though. Water drips from his hair onto my hands. For a moment, we just stand there, dripping and shaking.
Then he brings me against his chest, his arms clutching around me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“Don’t do that ever again,” he orders into my hair. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“I won’t.”
He doesn’t let go. Just holds me there on the deck, both of us wet and cold, but alive.
I can feel his heart thudding against my cheek. There’s a tremor in his hands as they stroke my back.
This man cares about me. Really cares. Maybe he can’t say the words. Maybe he doesn’t know how.
But this? This fear, this desperate relief? This is real.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For what I said earlier. I had no right.”
“You were trying to understand.”
“I was trying to fix something that can’t be fixed.”
He arches back just enough to look at my face. “Nothing’s broken, Olivia.”
“Really? ‘Cause it seems like everything’s broken.”
“Then we’ll break together.” He cups my jaw, thumb stroking my cheekbone. “But you don’t get to leave me. Not like that. Not ever.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were. You were running. You’ve been doing that for as long as I’ve known you, and probably even longer than that: fleeing from whatever’s in your head that makes you think drowning is better than staying.”
He’s right. God, he’s right.
I was running. Not consciously, maybe. But that’s what it was.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Of… everything.”
“Me, too.”
“You don’t seem scared.”
“That’s because I’m very good at lying.” He leans his forehead against mine. “But I am, Olivia. I’m terrified. You’re too precious to me to lose.”
“Say it again.”
“You’re precious to me. You and this baby. You’re everything.”
It’s not quite a declaration of love.
But it’s close. Close enough for me.