Chapter 25
OLIVIA
The manor feels different when we return. Or maybe it’s just me who’s different.
Stefan’s hand rests on the small of my back as we walk through the front door. He’s stayed within arm’s reach of me since he dragged me out of the water. In all honesty, I don’t mind one bit.
“You should rest,” he says. “You almost drowned this morning.”
“I didn’t almost drown. I was swimming and got caught in a current. There’s a difference.”
His jaw tightens. “Olivia.”
“Stefan.”
We scowl at each other. Then his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You’re impossible.”
“Says the most overprotective man who’s ever manned overprotectively.”
“I’m appropriately protective,” he retorts, “given that you keep putting yourself in danger.”
I start to argue, but footsteps interrupt us. One of the staff appears in the hallway. “Mr. Safonov, there’s a visitor for Dr. Aster.”
Stefan tenses immediately. “Who?”
“A Ms. Nguyen. She says she’s expected.”
The relief is instant and overwhelming. “Camille. I texted her earlier that I was coming back today.”
Stefan relaxes but doesn’t move his hand from my back. “Where is she?”
“The sitting room, sir.”
“Thank you.”
We walk together down the hall. Camille is perched on the edge of one of the sofas, looking around with wide eyes. When she sees me, she jumps up. “Liv!”
She pulls me into a hug that’s too tight and too long, and I realize she was actually worried. Really worried.
“I’m okay,” I murmur into her shoulder. “Pinky swear.”
“You disappeared for days. Days, Olivia! Do you know how freaked out I was?”
“I’m sorry.”
She pulls back and looks me over. “Are you? Are you really?”
“Am I okay, or am I sorry?”
“Both!”
I laugh. “I’m fine. I promise. And I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Her gaze flicks to Stefan, who’s standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. “And you,” she seethes. “You better have an extremely good explanation for whisking her away like that.”
Stefan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t answer to you.”
“Well, you should. Someone needs to keep you in check.”
I bite back a smile. Only Camille would talk to Stefan Safonov like that and get away with it.
“Cami,” I say gently, “it’s okay. Really.”
She looks between us, opens her mouth as if to continue reading us both the riot act, then seems to decide to let it go. For now. “Fine. But we have a lot to discuss.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Stefan says. He leans down to kiss my forehead, a gesture so casual and intimate it makes my breath catch. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Then he’s gone, and Camille is staring at me with her mouth open. “What was that?” she gapes.
“What was what?”
“That. The forehead kiss. The ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me.’ You two are...”
“We’re working things out.”
“Working things out. Right.” She grins. “I believe that’s what they call a ‘euphemism.’”
“Camille.”
“Fine, fine. But we’re talking about this later, too. God, we have so much to catch up on.” She sits back down and pats the cushion next to her. “First things first: business.”
I sit, tucking my legs under me. I’m still a little chilly from this morning’s impromptu dip. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is we have a clinic to open. At Mass Gen. Do you realize how huge this is?”
“I do.”
“Do you, though? Because you’ve been off the grid for days while I’ve been fielding calls from contractors, equipment suppliers, the hospital board.
Everyone wants to know when we’re starting, what our timeline is, what services we’ll be offering.
It’s madness. I’ve aged years in the last few days. ”
Guilt twists in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”
“Yes, you should have. But you’re here now, so let’s focus.
” She pulls out her tablet and starts scrolling.
“I’ve been working on a preliminary budget.
The hospital is covering the build-out of the space, but we need to furnish it, stock it, and hire staff.
I’m thinking we start with a small team.
You, me, two nurses, maybe a part-time embryologist.”
“Dr. Whitehead,” I say immediately. “If she’s available. She’s the best.”
“Dr. Whitehead is great, but she’s expensive.”
“We can afford her now.”
Camille looks up from her tablet. “Can we? I mean, Stefan’s donation was generous, but it won’t last forever. We need to be smart about this. Every dollar counts.”
“We will be. But I’m not cutting corners on staff. Not when we’re trying to build something that lasts.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. Dr. Whitehead it is. What about equipment? We’ll need new incubators, microscopes, the works.”
We spend the next hour going through lists. Cami’s right—it’s madness. Equipment, supplies, staffing needs, patient intake protocols… the list never ends. It’s overwhelming and exciting and terrifying all at once.
This is what I’ve always wanted. A clinic where I can do things my way. Here, I can help people without worrying about making rent or pleasing investors who don’t understand the work.
But it’s also Stefan’s money making it possible. His influence that got me the partnership in the first place.
And I still don’t know how to feel about that.
“Earth to Olivia,” Camille says, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you wanted to schedule a meeting with the hospital board next week. To go over the timeline.”
“Yes. That sounds good.”
She taps something into her tablet. “Done. Now, let’s talk about the fun stuff: interior design. We need to make the space welcoming, professional, not too clinical. I’m thinking soft colors, comfortable furniture, maybe some nice art on the walls. What are your thoughts on jade green?”
“I trust your judgment.”
“Good, because I’ve already been looking at paint samples.” She pulls up a folder on her tablet and starts showing me options. Alongside the green, she’s also chosen soft blues, warm grays, pale yellows.
I nod along, only half paying attention.
My mind keeps drifting back to Stefan. Part of me wonders if he’s been as forthcoming as he claims he was.
I can’t help but suspect he’s lying. It’s in the way his eyes shift when he talks about his mother, the tension in his shoulders.
If not lying, then he’s hiding something.
But I’m hiding things, too. Like the fact that I’m still thinking about Natalia. Still wondering if there’s a way to fix what’s broken between her and Stefan.
“Liv? You’re doing it again. Space cadet status.”
“Sorry.”
Camille sets down her tablet and looks at me. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know you better than that.”
I hesitate. How much can I tell her? How much should I tell her? “It’s… complicated,” I finally say.
“It always is with you.”
“I just... I’m trying to figure out how to move forward.”
“Are you having second thoughts? About the partnership?”
“No. Not about that.”
“About Stefan?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. It’s just that there’s so much I don’t know about him. So much he won’t tell me.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Yes. But he deflects. Or he gives me partial truths. It’s like he can’t help himself.”
Camille is quiet for a moment. “Do you love him?”
The unexpected question flusters me. “I... I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. C’mon. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster and cleaner you get it over with, the easier it is.”
“I think I do,” I say quietly. “But I don’t know if that’s enough.”
“Love is never enough by itself. You need trust, too. And communication. And a whole lot of patience.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Good. Because you deserve to be happy, Liv. You’ve spent your whole life trying to prove yourself to your black hole of a mother, to the world at large. Maybe it’s time to just be happy.”
“I’m trying,” I say.
“I know you are.” She starts to pack away her stuff. “I think that’s enough for today,” she says. “You look exhausted.”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I’m kinda wrecked.”
“Go rest. I’ll handle the contractors and get back to you with updates.”
“Thank you, Camille. For everything. I don’t deserve you.”
She stands and pulls me into another hug. “That’s what friends are for.”
As she heads toward the door, I remember something. “Wait. Camille?”
She turns. “Yeah?”
“I meant to ask you something and it keeps slipping my mind. That investor, Nat— I mean, Genevieve. How did that meeting come about?”
Camille tilts her head. “Who? Oh. Uh, she contacted me. She said she heard about us through Dr. Heller at Mass Gen and she wanted to meet with us to discuss investment options. It’s weird, though.
She never followed up after your meeting with her.
I tried calling her a few times, but no answer. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
Camille gives me a look that says she doesn’t quite believe me, but she doesn’t push. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself, okay?”
After she leaves, I sit on the sofa for a long time, staring at nothing. Dr. Heller. Genevieve heard about us through Dr. Heller. If I could get in touch with Dr. Heller, maybe he could help me find Natalia.
The thought makes my pulse quicken. But it also fills me with dread.
Because if I find Natalia, what then? Do I tell Stefan? Do I keep it from him?
He made it clear what he’d do if he found her. And I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him hurt her, no matter what she’s done.
But I also can’t keep lying to him. Not if we’re going to make this work.
I press my hands to my face and breathe.
This is impossible. All of it. I want to believe that Stefan and Natalia could find some kind of peace. If they could just talk, really talk, and maybe understand each other, then maybe… But I know that’s naive. Childish, even.
Stefan doesn’t want to understand his mother. He wants her gone.
And Natalia... I don’t know what Natalia wants. Revenge? Reconciliation? Both? Neither?
I think about the journal she gave me, the one written by Stefan’s father. I haven’t had the courage to go back and read more of it yet. It’s sitting in my suitcase, wrapped in a scarf like it might explode if I touch it.
Maybe it’s time to open it. Maybe there are answers there.
Or maybe there are just more questions.
I stand and head upstairs to the bedroom Stefan and I are sharing. Our suitcases are still by the door, unpacked. I kneel down and unzip mine, digging through clothes until I find the journal.
It’s small, leather-bound, worn at the edges. The kind of thing someone would carry in their pocket everywhere they go.
I sit on the edge of the bed and open it.
Natalia is pulling away from me. I can feel it. She says she’s tired, that she needs space, but I know there’s more to it. I’ve tried to give her what she needs, but nothing I do seems to be enough.
Stefan asked me today why his mother doesn’t smile anymore. I didn’t know what to tell him. How do you explain to a child that sometimes love isn’t enough? That sometimes, people drift apart no matter how hard you try to hold on?
I found pills in her nightstand. Sleeping pills. More than she should have. When I asked her about them, she said she couldn’t sleep. That her mind won’t stop racing. I’m worried about her, but she won’t let me help.
She’s seeing someone. I’m almost certain of it. The late nights, the distant looks, the flinches when I touch her. I should confront her, but I’m afraid of what I’ll hear.
The headaches are getting worse. The doctor says it’s stress, but I think it’s more than that. I can feel something wrong inside my head. Something shifting, changing. I’m scared, but I can’t tell Natalia. She has enough to worry about.
I stop reading. My hands are shaking.
A brain tumor. Elena mentioned that. But reading it in his own words, seeing his fear laid bare on the page... it’s different. It’s watching a man die in real time.
I close the journal and set it on the nightstand. I can’t read any more. Not right now. Instead, I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Dr. Heller. That’s the answer. That’s the key to everything.
But I can’t tell Stefan. Not until I know what I’m going to do.
I hate keeping secrets from him. Especially now, when we’re trying to build something real. But I also can’t let him destroy any chance of reconciliation before it even starts.
So I’ll find Natalia on my own. I’ll talk to her. And then... then I’ll figure out what to do.
It’s not a great plan. But it’s the only one I have.