Chapter 188 We're Even Now

Chapter 188 We're Even Now

"I… I…"

Olivia's eyes filled with tears. She looked at me, too choked up to speak, and then her knees gave way and she sank to the floor again.

I instinctively reached out to help her up, but she began to speak, her voice trembling.

"I seek forgiveness from your late mother."

"Growing up, your mother was brilliant and sharp. Most people in the neighborhood favored their eldest children, but your grandparents had eyes only for her. I was always overlooked, always pushed aside."

"I felt like I didn't belong. Jealousy and pain followed me for years. I resented her for taking all the love, for having everything I thought should have been mine…"

She murmured through those bitter memories in a low, hoarse voice, like someone confessing to themselves.

"You're smarter than my mother. More perceptive too. But you chose to stay quiet. You chose to let things happen." I looked up at her, my voice cold, cutting straight to the truth. "Because you're cold, calculating, and selfish. You always looked like you were keeping to yourself, but you understood everything better than anyone."

I studied her hollow, worn face. All the color had long since left her skin—dry and sunken—yet I could still make out, in the shape of her eyes and brows, a faint echo of what my mother once looked like.

A memory from childhood surfaced. My mother would show up at the door with armfuls of gifts, and every time she'd scoop me up laughing and play with me in the living room.

I had no way of knowing how much of that was real.

Maybe some of it was. Just not very much.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to stay hard. But the image that came to mind was from years ago—a rainy night. My parents' funeral. The rain was pouring down. I was small, clutching a stuffed animal, falling apart in the middle of it all.

And Olivia, despite David's objections, had let out a quiet sigh and said what she said.

"I'll take the child home and look after her."

I slowly opened my eyes.

Olivia was still kneeling in front of me, her head bowed low.

She was thin—so thin that her loose hospital gown hung off her frame and traced every knob of her spine. A lifetime of guilt, obsession, and illness had finally broken her, draining away what little was left.

"Get up."

I pushed down whatever was rising inside me. My voice came out dry and flat.

"You're already weak. Kneeling only makes it worse. Whatever you still owe, whatever you need to explain—save it for when you're gone, and say it to my mother yourself. As far as you and I are concerned, we're done."

Olivia pressed her hands against the floor and struggled to her feet, swaying like she might go over with the smallest push. I started to reach for her without thinking, but she lifted a hand and gently pushed me away, managing a thin, pale smile.

"I don't have much time left, do I?"

Something tightened in my chest. I was quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod.

Patients always know their own bodies. She'd known for a while.

"That's alright."

Olivia breathed with effort, her voice resigned but oddly calm. "I've done enough wrong in this life. Leaving sooner—maybe that's its own kind of relief."

The words had barely left her when she raised her hand to cover her mouth and was seized by a violent fit of coughing.

Bright red blood seeped through her fingers.

I frowned. "It's not that dire," I said, keeping my voice steady. "With proper care, you could still have a few good years."

"No."

Olivia struggled to catch her breath, lowering herself slowly into the chair. It took a long moment before she settled. Then, as if she'd made up her mind about something, she pushed herself upright and reached under the bedding, feeling around until she pulled out a small red velvet pouch.

She opened it carefully. Inside sat an antique cameo locket.

The chain was old and tarnished, with deep creases from years of being stored away. The carving on the locket was fine and precise, the quality exceptional—the kind of piece that only turns up at top-tier auction houses.

Olivia lifted it and fastened it around my neck. Her fingertips hovered near my cheek for a moment, then slowly drew back.

Her expression was serious, her voice sincere. "Eleanor, this locket is yours now. Keep it safe. Don't lose it."

I shook my head right away. "Keep it. You're still going to need money for a lot of things."

"This was always meant for you." Olivia's eyes held a dazed certainty as she looked at me. "I don't have long. Trust me—this is the only thing I can give you. It's the only apology I have."

"Is this something my grandparents left for my mother?"

I ran my thumb across the locket. The surface was smooth and cool, and beneath it, something faintly warm.

"More or less." Olivia hesitated, then tucked the locket inside my collar. "Just keep wearing it."

The vague answer left me with more questions than before.

I was about to press her when the attending doctor walked over. He clearly recognized me and greeted me respectfully, then pulled me aside and told me plainly that the patient was in very poor condition—today's ordeal had been too much for her, and she needed rest.

"Move her to a VIP room," I said quietly before I left. "If William asks, tell him it was my call."

They had been married. That much, he owed her.

I left the hospital with my mind still churning. Even in the car, my fingers kept drifting back to the locket at my throat.

I'd never seen it before in my life, and yet it felt completely familiar—like something I'd worn since I was small.

Then William called.

I didn't hesitate. I picked up.

"Hello?"

His voice was calm and even. "Something happened at the hospital?"

"Yes." I told him plainly. "I had Olivia moved to a VIP room."

I added that I was willing to cover it myself.

His answer came without hesitation. "That's fine. Do it your way."

Then he continued, "I've assigned two personal bodyguards. They should be at Downtown General by now."

I didn't know what to say.

Things between us had broken down completely. The Spencer family scandal was still all over the news with no sign of dying down. I'd expected him to use this as an opening—to push back, to make things difficult, to shut down my arrangement entirely.

I hadn't expected him to agree without hesitation. Or to have already sent people over.

It made me wonder for a second if I'd dialed the wrong number.

"Thank you."

I said it quietly.

From the other end of the line came the soft scratch of a pen on paper—he seemed to be signing something. He responded with a low sound but didn't say anything more.

"One more thing." I took a small breath, ready to finally clear the air. "I didn't leak Jane's video. Whatever you believe, I never did that."

"I know." His voice came through clearly, along with a few brief words to an assistant about sending some documents. "I looked into it. It was the Jordan family."

A short pause. Then, unusually, he softened. "Eleanor—I'm sorry. I was wrong about you."

I gave a small, humorless smile. "It's fine. I'm used to it. I didn't let it get to me."

"Are you free right now?"

"Why?"

William's tone dropped slightly, weighted with something quiet.

"There are some things I need to talk to you about in person—about Thalia. I should be coming to you, but I'm tied up here. Could you come to the office?"