Chapter 160
Chapter 160
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.”