Chapter 22
The dinner went off without a hitch. After clearing the last course of the meal, the precious wine everyone had been waiting for was poured.
Lianne gracefully rose from her seat, her glass raised to propose a toast. Everyone turned, and the chatter faded into a respectful silence.
“Thank you all for being here and making this celebration a success,” she announced, her lips stretched into a bright smile that made the chandelier appear dull in comparison. “To Sarah, I want to congratulate you on finishing art school. I’m proud of you, my daughter. Welcome home!”
Everyone raised their glass and cheered for Sarah.
Olivia lowered her glass before discreetly taking a sip from her orange juice. Her eyes were drawn to Lianne, who walked over to Sarah.
There was something beautiful in the way Lianne instinctively held Sarah close, as if she were the most precious thing.
Olivia could tell that while Lianne may have been a strict parent, there was never any doubt in her heart about her love for her daughter.
She admired mothers who showed love so openly. It was a kind of love that seemed unreachable for Olivia. Mrs. Hilton would die before she could ever express something like that to her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a subtle pat on her shoulder. She turned to her husband, seated next to her with a glass of wine in his hand.
“Should I get you some wine?” Clayton offered, tilting his head and staring at her orange juice with furrowed brows.
Olivia swallowed nervously, taken aback that he had noticed she was the only one abstaining from the wine. She fought to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I’m perfectly fine with this.”
Clayton's expression suggested he was about to interrogate her, but just then, a male acquaintance arrived, eager to discuss business with him. He shot her an apologetic glance, but she merely flicked her fingers dismissively, signaling for him to go.
Only when he was out of sight did she release the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
She got up and walked toward the buffet table to get herself a glass of water. Just as she was returning to her table, a figure whizzed by her side, causing her to spill a few drops of water on her dress.
She snapped her head to see the remorseless culprit who had bumped into her.
Marian Oliver, the daughter of one of Mrs. Hilton’s closest friends, stood in front of her. She was the last person Olivia wanted to cross paths with tonight, or any night for that matter.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia!” Marian exclaimed. “I didn’t see you there.”
Now, Olivia understood why Marian had bombed her audition for a TV show. If she couldn’t even pull off a believable fake apology, how was she supposed to convince anyone she could act?
"It’s fine," Olivia muttered, wiping her dress with her hand. She felt fortunate that water, and not wine, had been spilled on her dress. At least the dampness was less noticeable.
She wanted to escape and find a place where she could be alone, but as soon as she saw two of Marian's friends approaching, the hope slipped away like quicksilver.
Olivia didn’t even need to remember their names; she simply tagged them Spoiled Brat and Daddy’s Little Princess.
One was the type who had never lifted a finger to earn a dime and believed she was superior to everyone. The other was convinced she could get away with anything just because of who her father was.
“Maybe next time, look where you’re going,” Marian remarked.
“I will,” Olivia shot back coolly. “And you should too. The next person you bump into might just be your lover's wife.”
There was a collective gasp from both Spoiled Brat and Daddy’s Little Princess. They turned as one toward Marian, who had gone pale. The flush creeping up her cheeks only added to the satisfaction Olivia felt.
"Jake is divorcing his wife! Soon, Sarah will be Mrs. Davis!" Daddy's Little Princess protested, her cheeks flushed with indignation and her fists balled at her sides. She was ready to erupt into a tantrum.
“That doesn’t justify dating a married man," Olivia bit back, and Daddy's Little Princess flinched as if Olivia had actually hit her.
Spoiled Brat stepped forward to protect her friends. She snapped at Olivia, “Stop worrying about Sarah's life. You should worry about yours. Now that Caroline is back, you’re just excess baggage no one wants!”
The words were delivered with an exaggerated sweetness that was truly venomous, but Olivia didn't even flinch. The words were nothing compared to the verbal lashings Mrs. Hilton made her endure on a daily basis.
“Come on, girls, she’s not even worth our time.
” Marian finally found her voice. She turned to Olivia one last time and said, “Enjoy your life while you can. Once Caroline wakes up, you’ll have to return everything you’ve borrowed from her—and I’m not just talking about your husband.
” She smirked and then left with Spoiled Brat and Daddy’s Little Princess.
—
Olivia surveyed the guests, her desire to go home growing stronger by the minute, but she couldn’t spot Clayton among the crowd. He had a habit of disappearing just when she desperately needed him the most.
Just then, a flicker of movement caught her eye.
She turned toward the door, expecting to see her husband.
Instead, she saw a man in his early seventies step through the door.
His lustrous silver hair glimmered under the soft lights, and he walked with a steady gait, supported by a polished cane that seemed to complement his dignified aura.
He seemed familiar, Olivia mused, and it all clicked when Lianne stood by his side. There was no mistaking where Lianne had gotten her remarkable features from.
Whispers fluttered through the room, and she learned his name: Leandro Westmore, Leanne's father.
A retired General, he had once been one of the most influential figures in the country, second only to the president.
But an illness had driven him to step back from the limelight and lead a quieter life.
“Dad, you said you didn’t want to come to the celebration, but here you are,” Lianne said, wrapping her arm around his to steady his gait.
He didn’t respond, his gaze drifting around the room as if searching for something—or someone. When he finally turned to Lianne, concern etched on his face. “Where’s my granddaughter?” he asked.
Lianne glanced toward Sarah and gestured for her to come. “Sarah, come greet your grandfather. You haven’t seen him in a while.”
Sarah slowly, almost reluctantly, crossed the distance between them. "Grandpa Leandro…." She mumbled under her breath, her hand reaching out for him.
Just as her fingers brushed against his, Leandro recoiled, flicking her hand away as if her touch had burned him. “Who are you?” His voice was cold and sharp, like the edge of broken glass.
“Grandpa, it’s me. Your granddaughter,” Sarah explained with a smile.
The old man's face hardened, and he looked away from her with a disgusted look on his face. “Who are you fooling?”
Sarah's smile faltered, and a deep flush crept across her cheeks. She cast her gaze downward, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.
“Dad, didn't you take your medicine?” Lianne's grip on Leandro's arm tightened. “Is your dementia acting up again? Don't you remember Sarah? She's my daughter, your granddaughter.” She stressed the last words, but he refused to even look at Sarah.
“I don’t know that woman,” Leandro's words were firmer than before. There was no sign of the warmth that a grandfather should have for his grandchild. “She managed to fool you over the years, Lianne, but she can't fool me.”
Olivia pitied Sarah at that moment. It must have been painful to have an ailing grandfather unable to recognize your existence.
As if sensing her presence, Leandro’s gaze was drawn to Olivia like a magnet, and he couldn't look away. He moved toward her with surprising speed, the world around them slowing down as he approached.
When he stood before her, his hands gently cupped her cheeks. “You’re all grown up now,” he whispered. There was a hint of recognition in his eyes that made her even more confused. “I never thought I'd see you again.”
“Mr. Leandro... There’s been a mistake. I’m not your granddaughter,” Olivia clarified.
It tore her heart to say those words, as she would give everything—even her own life—just for the chance to have him as her grandfather.
Yet, as much as she wanted to have a family of her own, she yearned to find her real one, not steal someone else's.
“You think I wouldn’t recognize the child I left at the orphanage?” A flicker of hurt crossed Leandro's eyes. He took a step back, giving her some space. “I may have forgotten countless things, but my granddaughter is not one of them.”