Chapter 31
Clayton stared at her in silence, the corners of his eyes reddening as he inhaled sharply through his nose.
Desperation shot fiercely through his mouth. "No, Olivia. We are not getting a divorce. I'd rather die than sign these goddamn papers."
Her gaze drifted to the wedding band on her finger, the same ring he had slipped onto her hand while standing in front of the altar. Back then, Clayton had promised to protect her. Back then, she had believed every word.
"Do you remember our wedding vows, Clayton?"
A bitter smile touched her trembling lips when he failed to answer.
"I do. I remember every single word you told me the day we got married.
" Fresh tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked hard, refusing to let them fall.
"You looked me straight in the eye and vowed to stand by my side in joy and in sorrow, in laughter and in tears.
With every beat of your heart, you promised to love me deeply and unconditionally, and you promised to always CHOOSE ME above everyone else. "
A tear escaped despite her efforts. She wiped it away before it could roll further down her face. "You spoke those words so sincerely but time proved how you failed me."
Clayton visibly flinched under her gaze, as though she had slapped him hard. His eyes squeezed shut for a second. When he opened them again, they were glistening with tears.
"Olivia-"
She held up a hand, stopping the words before he could finish.
It hurt so much. Every breath felt like dragging shards of broken glass into her lungs. The pain threatened to steal her voice, but she forced the words out anyway.
"I'm exhausted, Clayton. I can't keep doing this anymore. I'm leaving you." She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, as if it could stop the pain splitting her apart. "I'm doing this for myself because if I stay any longer, there won't be anything left of me to save."
Olivia loosened her grip on the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Then she let go. The blanket slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a soft thud.
She started walking toward the door, uncaring if her wet clothes made her shiver. Before she could reach it, white sheets danced aimlessly through the air, caught in a slow, dramatic motion. Then, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
"Don't do this," he choked out. "Please don't leave me. I know I don't deserve another chance, but give me one anyway. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just... Please don't leave."
Clayton buried his face at the crook of her neck. His arms tightened around her, holding on as if he were trying to memorize the feeling of having her in his embrace. Because he knew, deep down, this might be the last time.
Something warm dropped against the side of her neck. For a moment, Olivia told herself it was water dripping from his damp hair. But the drops kept falling-one after another. They soaked into her skin, carrying a warmth no rainwater could ever hold.
She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him cry. Yet she didn't turn around. Because if she looked at him now and saw his anguished face, she wasn't sure she would have the strength to leave.
Slowly, Olivia reached for the arms wrapped around her waist. She peeled one away, then the other. His hands resisted at first, clinging desperately as though they had a will of their own. But eventually, his fingers loosened and slipped away.
She leaned closer, her voice venomously gentle as it brushed his ear.
"You can't undo what you've done. A wound, once made, cannot be undone. And the cruelest thing about your regret is that it came too late for me to forgive and forget."
Though every step felt like walking barefoot over shattered glass, she turned and walked toward the door.
Some endings hurt. Some endings leave scars that never truly fade. But not all endings are tragedies; some are the beginning of finally being free.
Olivia quietly closed the door behind her, like closing the final chapter of a book she had finished reading.
She made a beeline straight toward her car without so much as a glance to check if he followed. She was too exhausted for one more goodbye.
For too many years, she had lived for everyone except herself, but she finally chose differently.
Today, for the first time, she chose herself. And though it felt like dying, she walked away without regret.
-
She packed her clothes, jewelry, and other important belongings into a never-been-used suitcase she had bought years ago. Placing each item inside felt heavier than it should have, and throughout the process, she fought back tears.
Olivia felt tempted to keep at least one memento of her marriage, but she squashed the thought as quickly as it arrived.
What for?
To hold it at night and weep her heart out? To torture herself every time her eyes bore on it? No. What it would take was a single glance at a forgotten photograph, a gift, or some meaningless trinket to tear open wounds that were only beginning to close.
Moving on was painful enough. She had no desire to make the journey even harder. She was better off leaving everything behind. Anything that reminded her of her soon-to-be ex-husband had no place in her suitcase.
Finally, she finished packing with flying colors.
Making it through the ordeal without breaking down in tears felt like a victory of its own.
She left her house key on the nightstand and walked toward the main door.
It was only as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her that she realized packing had been the easy part.
Saying goodbye to the life she had built, the memories she had made, and the years she had spent as Clayton's wife was far harder.
_
"Smile, Olivia! This is a celebration, not a funeral."
Olivia tore her eyes away from the 65-inch television screen and wiped at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She turned toward Bella, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug beside her. Sloane and Czara lounged nearby, equally invested in the movie.
Behind them, sprawled across the velvet couch and occupying far more space than her size warranted, was Cinnamon, their shared furbaby. The fluffy Pomeranian lay on her back with all four paws in the air, looking every bit like a pampered princess.
They were gathered in the living room of a duplex apartment in an upscale residential building. From now on, this would be Olivia's home-a place she would be sharing with Bella and Czara. Sloane used to live there as well, but she had moved out shortly after marrying.
"It was your idea to watch Titanic!" Olivia shot back, making a face.
Apparently, Bella's idea of celebrating was binge-watching tragic movies while stuffing herself with nachos and popcorn. "Do you know how heartbreaking it is to watch Leonardo DiCaprio die five times in less than a year?"
"I thought it would make you feel better," Bella replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"How was it supposed to make me feel better?" Olivia asked dryly.
Bella waved a hand dramatically toward the screen. "Because it proves how stupid love is. Jack could've saved himself if he wasn't so moonstruck."
The declaration was accompanied by enough hand gestures to direct traffic. When it came to logic, Bella treated emotions the way scientists treated lab rats-something to be studied, dissected, and ultimately proven wrong.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "You completely missed the point of the movie."
"No, you did. The point is that love lowers your IQ."
"Hey! Hey! Keep your mouth shut, I'm still watching.
" Czara, the group's cute mediator, a year older than the rest of them, intervened.
But don't be deceived by her petite frame or serene expression.
She could easily flip a man twice her size with those delicate arms. Growing up as the only girl among seven siblings hadn't exactly made her soft.
"Yeah, shut up." Sloane muttered. Tearing her eyes from the screen seemed impossible as she watched Jack plummeting down the cold oceanic depths.
"Oh, poor Jack," she wailed.
Czara sighed and handed her a tissue before the tears could start flowing again.
For a miraculous few minutes, everyone stayed quiet, their attention fixed on the movie. The peace lasted only until the end credits began rolling across the massive television screen. Once the story was over, so was the silence.
Then, much to Olivia's dismay, the conversation drifted back to her divorce.
"We're proud of you for making such a difficult decision, Liv," Czara said, turning to her with genuine admiration.
Unfortunately, sympathy had never been her strongest suit.
Three seconds later, the corner of her lips curved into a smirk.
"Though, if I'm being honest, you probably should've done it years ago. "
Bella shot Czara an offended look. "Easy for you two to say. You've never been in love."
"And you have?" Czara arched an elegant brow. Reaching into the bowl of snacks, she casually popped a chip into her mouth.
"Excuse me?" Bella sputtered.
"Name one lasting relationship you've had," Czara challenged.
The silence that followed was so deafening Olivia could practically hear it. Just then, Bella pointed an accusing finger at Czara "For your information, I've had plenty of relationships."
"None of which survived long enough to qualify for a warranty," Czara remarked matter-of-factly.
Bella crossed her arms and huffed. "Fine. My relationships may not have lasted, but at least I've experienced love."
Olivia groaned and buried her face in a pillow. The movie had ended barely a minute ago, and her friends were already bickering. Some things, unfortunately, never changed.
She lifted her head with a sigh, but before she could say a word, Sloane stepped in before the two could turn their squabble into a wrestling match.
"Enough. Time's too precious to waste it arguing." She grabbed the remote and brought up the menu, revealing an endless selection of movies. "Ladies, prepare the tissues. We're watching Romeo and Juliet."
Three groans rang out in unison.
"Here we go again," Olivia muttered, though she settled back against the couch and watched anyway.
-
"Can someone explain why my head is trapped beneath this giant helmet, making me look like an astronaut awaiting launch into space when I was perfectly fine at home binge-watching tragic movies?
" Olivia snapped her gaze away from the magazine she'd been pretending to read for the past few minutes and shot her friends a bewildered look.
Bathed in warm golden light, her three friends lounged in plush velvet chairs lined side by side, each looking moments away from drifting off. Around them, beauticians tended to their hair and pedicures while soft music played in the background.
"We want the old Olivia back," Bella mumbled without opening her eyes. "The same Olivia who doesn't have to dye her hair dark or straighten her hair just to look like a certain someone."
"And now that you're finally off your adoptive parents' radar, you can be yourself again. You're free now, Olivia. Seize it." Sloane added.
Then, with all the pomp of an actress delivering her final line, Bella raised a finger and proclaimed, "As the Bard himself said, 'To thine own self be true.'"
Czara, who had been silent all along, cracked one eye open. "Wow. Did you read that from a book?"
"No," Bella admitted. "It was on a mug."
Olivia smiled.
She knew her friends meant well. They knew her adoptive mother's control had never been limited to what she wore or how she behaved.
When her naturally dark hair began to lighten to dark brown with puberty, Mrs. Hilton noticed immediately.
From then on, she was subscribed to monthly appointments at a salon where her hair was dyed and painstakingly straightened to mirror Caroline's sleek, dark hair.
Looking back now, Olivia wondered how she had managed to endure years under Mrs. Hilton's totalitarian rule.
Bella shifted in her chair. "I'm serious though," she muttered. "We're not letting you go back to that... polished doll version of you. That wasn't you."
Czara nodded, for once, she agreed with Bella's words. "You didn't even choose your own hair for years. That's insane when you think about it."
"From now on, we'll help you rediscover yourself." Sloane said softly.
"You three are ridiculous." Olivia muttered.
"And yet, you're stuck with us," Bella teased. "For life."
Her friend burst out laughing. Olivia laughed too. and soon the four of them dissolved into helpless giggles, drawing puzzled glances from the beauticians.
The girls' day out hadn't ended with pampering and new hairstyles.
Much to Olivia's astonishment, her three friends who she could have sworn possessed endless stamina, marched straight from the salon to the shopping district, determined to replace her wardrobe.
Before she knew it, Olivia found herself being dragged from boutique to boutique. Hours later, the four of them were laden with shopping bags.
The sunset had long since bled its last colors across the sky by the time they arrived back at the duplex.
Olivia's exhaustion finally broke through the last thread of endurance she had left and she lay sprawled on the bed.
Yet, stirring inside her was a quiet satisfaction she hadn't known in years. She felt like a bird released from a gilded cage, seeing the world for the very first time.
"Olivia, the telephone's ringing. People are asking where you are." Sloane's head peeked through the small opening of the door.
"Did you tell them where I am?" Olivia asked. She had turned her phone off, knowing it would be flooded with messages, and yet, somehow, they still found a way to reach her.
Should she just move three states away just to taste real freedom? But her work was in Cordova, so that possibility was quickly crossed off her list.
"No..." Sloane replied quickly. "I swear I haven't told a soul, not even my husband.
Olivia massaged her throbbing temples. "I'll call the service provider first thing in the morning and request a number change."
Sloane shook her head. "Don't bother, Liv. I'll do it." She said, then she was gone.
Once the door shut, Olivia closed her eyes. But a few seconds later, Sloane's head popped back into the open doorway.
"I forgot to tell you that Clayton called each of us, asking where you are. But we know nothing. We don't know where you are."
Olivia knew she could rely on her friends.
"Thank you," she mouthed, a small smile touching her lips.
"No worries. Just rest. We will talk tomorrow."
The door clicked shut, and this time, it stayed that way.
Olivia sighed, savoring the stillness with her eyes now closed. She thought about what life had in store for her now that she was on her own.
She wouldn't go hungry or worry about where to stay because even without the duplex, buying a house of her own was within her reach.
She lacked nothing. She had money. Lots of it. Enough to last a lifetime, if she allowed it.
Her child would live in luxury, with the finest education, even without the support of her family or her soon-to-be ex-husband.
What troubled her wasn't survival.
It was how long the divorce would take, and how the people close to them would react.
Despite everything, Olivia slept soundly that night, choosing to let her future self deal with the consequences.
-
The news of the divorce landed harder than intended.
By Monday morning, it was already everywhere, splashed across headlines, and dissected over breakfast tables. By lunch, the whole city was talking about it.
HE SAVED THE NATION. SHE SAVED LIVES. THEY COULDN'T SAVE THEIR MARRIAGE.
The headline dominated every screen it touched.
Calling it massive would have been an understatement. As Nurse Jessy jokingly said to lighten the mood while scrolling through her phone, it was "about as shocking as Halley's Comet passing Earth in 1910."
She tilted her phone, still reading. "Actually, maybe more shocking. At least the comet would've given us a warning."
Olivia didn't laugh. Not even a flicker of amusement crossed her face. It was different when you were the one at the center of it all, when your life became public commentary, spoken about so easily by people who could never stand in your shoes.
Clayton had appeared in newspapers long before he joined the military and earned recognition within its ranks.
Olivia on the other hand, was equally renowned in her own right as the youngest neurosurgeon in the country.
They were seen as the perfect couple on the surface.
So it was no surprise how people reacted when, in a single morning, their marriage fell apart.
"Now that you're about to be divorced, perhaps those waiting for their turn would-"
"Stop." Olivia cut Nurse Jessy off before she could finish, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't jinx it."
She prayed intently, desperately for it not to happen. A suitor was the last thing she needed to worry about.
But perhaps Olivia hadn't prayed hard enough.
Flowers began arriving at the hospital just a few hours into her shift.
It started small, just a few bouquets neatly placed at her locker. Then two more arrived before lunch. By afternoon, nurses spent some time carrying them to her desk. The scent grew so heavy that Olivia sneezed several times while arranging what she thought was the last of them.
But the ordeal was far from over.
The next day was no better. When Olivia stepped off the elevator and walked into Dr. Wilson's office, she almost turned around, thinking she had entered the wrong room.
The couch was buried under roses. A massive arrangement of lilies and orchids occupied the couch. Even the corners of the room had surrendered to flowers.
Dr. Wilson stood in the middle of it all, holding a chart in one hand and a vase in the other, looking as though he was trying to understand how his office had been transformed into a florist's shop overnight.
He noticed her at the door and let out a resigned sigh. "Good morning, Dr. Hilton. If you were wondering, I'm currently accepting patients... and possibly florists."
She bit her lip hard and stepped inside, careful not to crush the delicate petals under her feet. "I'm really sorry about this, Sir. I didn't ask for any of this. They just keep coming."
Dr. Wilson sighed and set the vase down. He glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. "Do you have any enemies I should know about, or is this strictly a romantic floral attack?"
Olivia let out a helpless breath that almost turned into a laugh. "Sir, I think I prefer enemies at this point."
He settled comfortably into his swivel chair and gestured toward the empty seat opposite him. "Well, we can worry about what to do with the flowers later. Shall we sit down and discuss your upcoming surgery?"
Olivia crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk, first removing a bouquet of roses that had taken up residence on the seat.
Dr. Wilson picked up a folder. They were dealing with a high-security patient this time. The file was clearly marked CONFIDENTIAL. It could be a politician, a notorious criminal, a celebrity, or some other public figure. The possibilities were endless.
Dr. Wilson adjusted his glasses, but instead of opening the file, he studied her for a moment longer than usual.
"Tell me, Dr. Hilton, is it just me, or do you look different?" he asked. "Prettier, somehow, though I can't quite put my finger on why. Is it your hair? The curls suit you better. You look like Queen Arabella in her prime."
The compliment brought a warm blush to Olivia's cheeks. She hadn't expected something as subtle as a change in hairstyle to be noticed so quickly.
"You flatter me, Dr. Wilson," she said with a soft laugh. "At this rate, I should probably clear out your office immediately. Either the flowers have affected your eyesight, or you've been hallucinating from inhaling too much floral perfume."
Dr. Wilson shrugged. "Perhaps it's just me, but the divorce practically made you glow."
Olivia dismissed the remark with a light wave of her hand. "Well, Dr. Wilson, shall we discuss the patient?"
The humor faded from his face, replaced by the seriousness befitting the matter at hand. He opened the folder on his desk and turned his attention to the case.
"Right," he said. "Let's begin."
-
"DR. HILTON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE. DR. HILTON TO THE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE."
Olivia had just stepped out of Dr. Wilson's office when her name echoed through the hospital speakers.
Being summoned to the Director's office was rare. Being called over the intercom? That could only mean trouble.
The Director's office occupied the top floor, far above the organized chaos of the wards and operating rooms. She entered the elevator and pressed the button to her floor. The elevator climbed with agonizing slowness, maybe because she was worrying too much.
Ding.
The doors slid open and she hastened out, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat had long since given way to nervous thuds pounding against her ribs.
On the outside, she remained composed. Years of practice had taught her how to wear calm like a second skin.
Inside, however, she was one heartbeat away from a complete meltdown.
She had only met the Hospital Director a handful of times during his rounds. They exchanged greetings. Nothing more. Never once had she been personally summoned to his office.
Which made this infinitely worse.
By the time she reached the imposing door, her palms were damp. She straightened her coat, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle, and knocked.
"Come in."
The deep voice from the other side made her stomach drop. Taking a quiet breath, Olivia pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The Director sat behind his broad mahogany desk, fingers laced together, his expression carefully schooled into neutrality. The last rays of the sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, painting the city skyline in orange hues.
And when he didn't immediately ask her to sit down, Olivia knew she was in trouble.
"Dr. Hilton," he said finally. "I assume you know why you're here."
"No, Sir." The answer left her lips automatically, though she had a pretty good idea. Her knees suddenly felt weak, and before they could betray her completely, she lowered herself into the chair without waiting for permission.
The Director rubbed his temple and released a weary sigh. "Dr. Wilson's office has turned into a flower shop. Frankly, I think the bouquets have better attendance than some of our interns."
He chuckled at his own joke.
Olivia couldn't.
Heat flooded her face. Of all the reasons to be summoned by the Hospital Director, being reprimanded over flowers had to be the most humiliating.
"I'm sorry, Sir." Her voice came out softer than she intended. "I truly didn't expect things to escalate this far. I promise I'll deal with it before the day ends."
"Please do, Dr. Olivia." His tone turned serious. "A small disturbance can snowball into a major problem if left unchecked. Handle the commotion before it causes trouble for everyone."
She lowered her head.
"Yes, Sir."
Silence lingered between them.
Then his voice softened.
"Did Dr. Wilson brief you about our very important patient?"
"He did, Sir."
"Good." The Director leaned back in his chair.
There was something almost reverent in his expression.
"Of all people, I entrusted her to you because you're our best neurosurgeon.
" He gave her a pointed look. "Take extra care of her, Dr. Olivia.
We can't afford mistakes. The future of this hospital may very well rest in her hands. "
"I won't let you down, Sir." Resolve hardened in her eyes as she said the words.
"Good." He gave a dismissive nod. "You may go."
Relief washed over her so quickly that she almost sagged with it. She rose from her chair and released the breath she'd been holding for a moment now. Keeping her composure, she walked toward the door at a measured pace, though every instinct urged her to sprint.
"Dr. Olivia."
Her hand froze on the doorknob. A thousand dreadful possibilities flashed through her mind. She swallowed and turned around.
"Yes, Sir?"
His stern expression had vanished."I'm sorry to hear about your divorce."
The words caught her off guard. She managed a faint smile and shrugged.
"There are things we have to let go, Sir. Mine just happened to be my marriage." She paused, sadness flickering briefly across her eyes before she forced a small smile. "Perhaps it's for the better."
"Perhaps it is." The Director agreed to her surprise. His gaze lingered on her face, and the stern lines around his eyes softened. "You know, you're practically glowing. It's the first time I've seen your eyes shine like that."
He shook his head lightly, almost amused. "You've always been brilliant, Dr. Hilton, but today, you actually look happy."
Olivia was too stunned to respond. She stood rooted in place, quietly taking in his words. Compliments from colleagues were one thing. Hearing them from the Hospital Director himself was another entirely.
The Director chuckled softly and gave her a playful wink.
"Well, I happen to have a nephew. Fine young man. Handsome, too. You might be interested in meeting him."
Olivia nearly choked. She let out a nervous laugh. "That's very kind of you, Sir. But I'd have to decline. My career is my priority at the moment."
"What a shame." He sighed dramatically before nodding with mock resignation. "Still, can't blame a man for trying."
"Have a good day, Sir."
And with that, she hastened out of the office before the Director could remember he had another eligible relative tucked away somewhere.
Olivia returned to Dr. Wilson's office and, to her relief, found Nurse Jessy already there along with several nurses enjoying their break, waiting for instructions on what to do with the mountain of bouquets crowding every available surface.
Throwing them away seemed criminal.
So, after a brief discussion, she handed each nurse a bouquet, which they accepted gratefully. The remaining arrangements were sent to the wards to brighten the rooms of patients who rarely received visitors.
With the last few bouquets left, Olivia personally made her rounds, placing them in patients' rooms one by one.
Soon, only one arrangement remained.
It was the largest bouquet of orchids Olivia had ever seen, an extravagant display of white and lavender blossoms wrapped in silk and tied with satin ribbons. It was far too beautiful to leave sitting in an office.
Smiling to herself, she decided there was only one patient important enough to receive it.
Cradling the bouquet in her arms, Olivia made her way down the quiet corridor leading to the hospital's most luxurious private suite.
Even from a distance, she spotted the three armed men stationed outside like statues, their stern expressions making it abundantly clear that ordinary visitors were not welcome.
The moment she approached, one of them stepped forward.
"Ma'am, we'll need to inspect that."
Olivia obediently surrendered the flowers. The men examined every stem and every ribbon with almost comical thoroughness before finally nodding and stepping aside.
"You're clear."
Olivia thanked them and entered the room.
It was spacious enough to rival a five-star hotel suite, yet an unusual tranquility hung inside. And there, resting peacefully upon the bed, was her new patient.
Olivia slowed to a stop.
Even in sleep, the elderly woman looked impeccably put together. Her silver-white hair was styled in a neat, voluminous coiffure. Soft curls framed her face, while the sides were sculpted into elegant rolls that seemed to belong to another era.
She looked as though she had stepped out of an old portrait, carrying herself with the quiet grace of a queen.
Olivia didn't move, afraid that even the sound of her footsteps might disturb such a serene expression.
But perhaps sensing another presence in the room, the elderly woman's eyelids fluttered.
"Sarah is that you?"
One elegant hand rose instinctively to smooth a strand of silver hair that had escaped its perfect coiffure. She blinked twice, gathering her bearings, then turned her head slightly toward Olivia.
"Oh," the elderly woman mumbled under her breath. "I'm seeing an angel. Did I just die and go to heaven?"
Olivia suppressed a smile. The medication must still be taking effect. "Hello. I'm Dr. Hilton. I brought you some flowers."
The elderly woman simply closed her eyes again and drifted back to sleep.
Olivia carefully arranged the lovely orchids in a vase, adjusting each stem until the bouquet looked just right before placing it at the center of the bedside table.
Once she was satisfied, she turned and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, someone came hurrying around the corner. Olivia barely managed to stop in time, narrowly avoiding a collision.
Both women looked up simultaneously, shock mirrored on their faces.
"Sarah?" Olivia blurted out.
Of all the people she could have run into, it had to be Sarah.
"What are you doing in my grandmother's room?" Sarah demanded, glaring at her with murderous fury in her eyes.