Chapter 7
660words
Olivia leaned in close while checking my blood pressure in the living room, her whisper barely audible as she delivered the news.
My heart leapt, and I instinctively looked up at her. Spotting Serena and another maid watching nearby, I quickly dropped my gaze.
"Ouch! Not so tight."
"Sorry, madam."
Olivia packed away her equipment, her face a perfect mask as she spoke loudly:
"You're healing nicely. Some fresh air and sunshine would do you good—better than brooding in your room and doing stupid things that anger Mr. Sullivan. When he's upset with you, we all pay the price."
She walked away with a convincingly irritated expression.
I glanced at Serena's icy stare, then walked past both women without acknowledgment, heading straight for a garden bench.
Three days had passed since Lawrence's violent outburst. He hadn't returned—or at least, not while I was conscious.
The sunlight felt glorious on my skin, warming me to my core. Though my body remained trapped in this gilded prison, my spirit had already escaped, soaring free, waiting for my physical self to follow.
The sound of a car braking reached my ears.
Tsk, he's back.
Even though I was still under the sun, a chill crawled up my spine from the ground.
"Vicky, you look much better."
I glanced at him once, not intending to respond. Then I closed my eyes again, tilting my face toward the sun, trying desperately to absorb the sun's warmth.
Seeing that I ignored him, he didn't get angry. He unbuttoned his suit and loosened his tie, then sat down beside me.
"Vicky," his voice crawled into my ear like a wriggling worm, making my skin crawl, "The day after tomorrow, on Monday, the kids have a parent-child sports day at kindergarten. Let's attend it together, okay? I've already rescheduled all my work for that day."
"Lawrence Sullivan, those are your and Elaine Blackwood's children, not mine. I shouldn't go."
"Still jealous about that?"
He turned to face me with a smile, our eyes meeting, but a dangerous light flashed in his slightly curved smiling eyes.
"I've told you, these two children call you mom, so you are their mother. But I didn't want you to suffer the pain of childbirth, and only I can be the one who is intimately connected with you."
"You're so frightening..."
Just as I was about to say something more, I saw Olivia approaching step by step.
"Sir," she said respectfully, "This Sunday I will provide 'psychological counseling' for your wife. Madam simply stays at home too much and has some minor psychological issues. After Sunday, I promise everything will be fine."
After speaking, Olivia glanced at me and then returned her gaze to Lawrence Sullivan's face.
"However, the most important aspect of 'psychological counseling' is a quiet environment. Rest assured, as long as you're by her side, where could your wife possibly go?"
Sullivan remained silent, just staring intently at Olivia's face, as if trying to see through her.
But Olivia maintained her composure, meeting his gaze and calmly accepting his scrutiny.
The two seemed to be engaged in a silent tug-of-war.
Although there were only three of us in the garden, it felt like we had arrived at the ultimate decisive battle, with hostilities about to erupt at any moment.
Sullivan stood up with interest, his eyes still fixed firmly on Olivia, approaching her step by step.
He stood only an arm's length away from Olivia, looking down at her.
Lawrence Sullivan felt puzzled. Something seemed off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Few people would so directly meet his gaze and hold eye contact with him. This forty-something woman before him appeared to be candidly accepting his scrutiny, yet he inexplicably felt as if he was being challenged. She was throwing down the gauntlet.
Lawrence Sullivan narrowed his eyes, leaned forward slightly, and was about to say something when.
He froze.
