Chapter 21
Olivia had barely gathered her composure when the car door opened.
Clayton offered her his hand, and she took it without hesitation.
The gentle warmth of his palm seeped into hers, offering a strangely comforting sensation.
Her chaotic thoughts gradually faded, replaced by an unexpected sense of courage as she got out of the car.
“Your hand is cold,” Clayton mumbled, almost to himself.
His fingers pressed softly to her temples, searching for signs of a fever.
Only when he felt the normal warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips did he breathe a small sigh of relief.
Olivia glanced down at her cold hand, then looked back at him.
She offered a gentle, almost dismissive smile and responded softly, “It must be the cold air. I guess I didn’t realize how chilly it got tonight.
”
Clayton studied her face, his eyes probing hers as if attempting to gauge her thoughts.
Yet, she maintained her mask, which made her emotions impossible to read.
Finally, he let out a resigned sigh.
Squeezing her hand, he turned to Sarah, whose gaze on Olivia was filled with deadly intent.
“It’s been a while,” Clayton greeted politely.
Sarah was too preoccupied to reply.
She was scrutinizing Olivia from head to toe, seemingly searching for any flaw.
When she found nothing, a flicker of irritation crossed her features.
“You’re his girlfriend?”
Olivia should have responded, but she was too stunned to speak.
She could hardly believe Sarah failed to recognize her.
Was it the light that made her unrecognizable?
Was it the way her hair was now loosely framing her features, softening her appearance?
Or maybe it was the years that had passed, years that had transformed her from a scrawny girl into a confident woman.
Olivia pulled herself together.
She was just about to reply when Clayton interrupted by clearing his throat.
Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side.
Her breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, she leaned closer.
“This is my wife, Olivia,” Clayton announced smoothly.
“Olivia, this is Sarah, Mom's friend's daughter.”
“Wife? You must be kidding, Clayton.” Sarah’s laugh sounded bitter. Her gaze raked over Olivia again, this time with a different kind of scrutiny, not just assessing, but dissecting her like a frog in a science experiment. “Since when?”
Clayton’s grip on Olivia's waist tightened possessively.
"Four years ago,” he answered.
Sarah staggered as if she had been physically struck.
The color drained from her face, transforming her previously rosy cheeks sickly white.
“W-what? But Mom never told me!”
“That's because, if I had told you, you would have rashly quit art school and abandoned everything just to get home," a gentle voice interrupted.
Olivia turned to see a woman around Lily Bradford's age—maybe even younger—approaching them. She wore a genuine smile that could light up an entire room. Her heart almost stopped when suddenly the woman pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m Leanne Westmore. You must be Olivia, Lily had told me so much about you. We have the same eye color!”
Olivia smiled warmly, her heart lifting at the sight of Leanne. She was genuinely happy inside, but for some unexplainable reason, her eyes were tearing up. She returned the hug, and in that moment, everything that bothered her in life—her worries, fears, the ghost of her past—all seemed to dissolve into a distant, blurry haze. She felt safe, secure, protected. It felt like home.
When the embrace ended, Olivia was struck by a profound wave of regret, more intense than she’d ever known.
She wished she could hold onto Leanne forever.
Leanne delicately framed her cheeks with her slender hands.
While Olivia wasn't one to typically admire hands or consider them pretty, Leanne’s were long and graceful, like a candle.
“Lily mentioned that you're beautiful, but my goodness, you're breathtaking. You truly are one of God’s finest creations."
Olivia chuckled nervously, attempting to brush off the compliment in a polite manner. “That’s a bit excessive, Mrs. Westmore. I’m not really that pretty. I’d say… average, at best.”
“Well, that's your opinion. Anyway, just call me Auntie.” Leanne finally turned to Clayton, who had been quietly observing the exchange.
A grin spread across her face. “It's been a while, Son. You’re more handsome than the last time I saw you.”
Clayton replied in an affectionate tone, “And you're as radiant as ever, Auntie. You aged like fine wine.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
“You're still a sweet talker, just like I remember.” Leanne laughed, shaking her head.
Then her eyes lit up saying, “Well, I'm so glad you brought your wife along. I’ve been wanting to get to know her. Lily told me she loves art.”
“She's an excellent painter, Auntie,” Clayton replied with a hint of pride in his tone. He placed an arm around Olivia's shoulder before adding, "You'll love her work.”
Olivia’s cheeks burned at his praise. She dipped her chin, her gaze darting to the ground.
“Let's go inside. Everyone's waiting,” Leanne said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Olivia’s arm as she prepared to lead her inside. But before she could move, Sarah suddenly cut in to confront her mother, her face contorted with rage. “Why didn't you tell me Clayton's married?”
Olivia could almost see steam rising from Sarah’s nostrils.
“Must you make a scene in front of our guests?” Leanne’s tone fell into a whisper. “I told you, back then you needed to focus on art school. If you'd gone home after hearing the news, your grandfather would have cut you out of the will.”
Sarah stomped her feet like a stubborn child denied a toy. “Still you knew and didn't say a word! You let me waste my time in art school when—”
“Enough!” Leanne’s voice remained soft, but there was an unmistakable steeliness beneath that made it clear she would not tolerate another outburst.
Sarah instantly kept her mouth shut. The fear in her eyes was real. Even Olivia would tremble in fear had Leanne used that tone on her. Without a word, Sarah marched into the house, trying to hold back the tears.
Leanne glanced at Olivia and then at Clayton, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I’ve spoiled her rotten; it’s no surprise she acts like a brat.”
“No need to apologize, Auntie,” Clayton told her reassuringly. He placed a hand on her back, guiding both her and Olivia forward. “Let’s head inside. I’m starving!”
—
At the long table, Olivia sat quietly beside her husband, savoring the flavors that danced on her palate. The Westmore family had prepared well for the occasion. Not only was the dinner beautifully set, but the food was also superb.
If it weren't for the persistent whisper of self-consciousness, she would have filled her plate with all the tempting dishes.
As the other guests engaged in conversation—discussing business deals, market trends, and even the latest gossip—Olivia reached for the serving bowl that held the dish she had been eyeing for a while now and added a generous portion to her plate.
She took a bite of the tender meat, and it practically melted in her mouth. It was so delicious that not even Sarah, who she now noticed watching her with a gaze sharp enough to pierce her skin, could deter her from savoring every last morsel.
“Mrs. Westmore, you have an incredibly stunning daughter.
She truly inherited your genes," declared a dignified old man with wisps of white hair and a plump face.
His words cut through the din of conversation around the table, prompting everyone to momentarily pause and direct their attention to him.
“I have a son around her age,” the man continued. It would be lovely if they could get acquainted.”
Olivia, still lost in her thoughts, was the last to look up. The moment she did, she nearly choked on her food, startled to find the man's intense gaze locked onto hers.
A warm flush crept into her cheeks as she became acutely aware she drew everyone's attention.
Leanne Westmore cleared her throat, offering a polite smile as she set the record straight. “Mr. Sanders, I need to clarify that Olivia isn’t my daughter. I would be thrilled if she were, but she’s actually the daughter of an acquaintance.”
Mr. Sanders raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by her response.
“Really? Everyone here seems convinced she’s your daughter; you both have a bit of a resemblance.
” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if the revelation held little significance.
Turning to Olivia, he adopted the tone of a businessman about to deliver his sales pitch.
“By the way, my son is a bachelor, runs a successful shipping company, and is quite handsome. A real catch!”
“That’s kind of you Sir, but I must insist that you save your matchmaking for someone else.” It was Clayton who interrupted before Olivia could speak. “SHE'S MARRIED.”
“Oh, I see… Well, that’s quite unfortunate.” The old man's face fell, his eyes giving way to a subtle cloud of disappointment, “Your husband is one lucky man.”
“He is.”
Clayton couldn't agree more.