Chapter 144 Broken Pride
Chapter 144 Broken Pride
Mrs. Olivia POV
I lay on my back in the dark, staring up at the white ceiling of my bedroom.
Every breath felt heavy, like a lead weight pressing down on my chest. My body burned with a fever, but the ice inside my stomach wouldn't melt. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Liam’s face, his dark eyes cold, sharp, and empty as he looked down at me as if I were nothing.
I don't know who you are.
The words kept ringing in my head, over and over, slicing through my brain like sharp glass.
The bedroom door clicked open. A narrow bar of light cut across the dark floor. My husband walked in, holding a steaming mug and a glass of water.
"Olivia," he said softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. He reached out, resting the back of his hand against my burning forehead. "You're burning up. You shouldn't have stayed out in the site so late."
I turned my head away, pulling the thick duvet up to my chin. "I'm fine."
"You aren't fine," he said, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. He dipped a small towel into cold water, wrung it out, and gently pressed it against my forehead. "You've been shivering since you got home. Did something happen while you were out?"
A fresh tear slipped down my temple, soaking into the pillowcase. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath so the sob rising in my throat wouldn't escape.
"Just... the past," I whispered, my voice raspy. "I was thinking about the past."
He sighed, smoothing my graying hair away from my face. "The past is gone, Olivia. Don't ruin your health over things you can't change."
"I know," I whispered into the dark, keeping my eyes squeezed shut.
His footsteps receded, the door clicking shut behind him. The moment the latch caught, I threw the blanket off my legs and swung my feet onto the cold floor.
My knees buckled under my weight, but I caught myself against the corner of the wooden wardrobe. I knelt on the rug, my fingernails digging into the bottom drawer as I yanked it open. My hands clawed through stacks of folded clothes until my fingers brushed against smooth, hard paper.
I pulled out a faded photograph.
In the picture, a seven-year-old boy stood on a wooden porch, wearing a shirt that sagged off his small shoulders. Liam. His dark eyes stared straight into the camera, unsmiling.
I slammed the paper against my mouth, stifling a ragged scream. Tears flooded my eyes, dripping onto the photo's glossy surface. My body shook as I collapsed onto the floor, clutching the faded picture to my chest.
………
The next morning, the sun was bright and unforgiving.
I stood across the street from Liam’s restaurant, my fingers clutching the strap of my handbag so tightly my knuckles turned white. My head was pounding, but I forced my legs to move, stepping off the curb and crossing the road.
I pushed the door open. A small bell chimed above my head.
The restaurant was quiet. Liam stood behind the long wooden counter, his back turned as he wiped down a glass with a white towel.
"We're closed for break," he said without turning around. "We reopen at two."
"Liam," I said quietly.
His shoulders locked instantly. The cloth in his hands stopped moving. He took a slow breath, set the glass down on the counter, and turned around to face me.
His face was completely motionless. No anger, no surprise—just an icy wall.
"I told you yesterday," Liam said, his voice flat and hard. "I don't know you. Leave."
"Please," I begged, taking two fast steps toward the counter before stopping myself. "Just five minutes. That's all I ask, Liam. Please."
He folded his arms across his chest, standing motionless as he watched me.
I unzipped my bag with trembling fingers and pulled out the white envelope. I reached across the counter and set it down on the table between us.
Liam looked down at the envelope, then raised his eyes back to mine. "What is this?"
"It's... It's for you," I stammered, swallowing hard. "I know I can't undo twenty years. I know I can't buy back the time I lost with you. But you work so hard here... you carry everything on your shoulders. Take it. Use it to expand the restaurant, or get a better place to live, or—"
"Take your money," Liam interrupted, his voice dropping an octave.
"Liam, please!" Tears spilled over my eyelashes, running down my cheeks. "Let me help you! It's the only thing I can give you right now!"
Liam picked up the envelope and tossed it back across the counter. It hit my wrist and fell to the floor.
"I don't need your money," Liam said, leaning forward over the counter, his eyes burning into mine. "I paid for my own clothes. I paid for my own food. I worked every night until my hands bled so I could afford to live. Where were you when I was sleeping on a cold floor?"
"I was afraid—"
"You were a coward," he spat, each word cutting through me like a razor. "You think a check fixes twenty years of being an orphan? I didn't need money when I was seven, Olivia. I needed a mother to tuck me into bed. I needed someone to tell me I was wanted!"
I covered my mouth with my hand, a loud sob tearing out of my chest.
"I have a business," Liam continued, standing up straight and pointing toward the glass door. "I have a life. And none of it includes you. Take your check and get out of my restaurant."
"Liam... please..." I reached out, my fingers hovering near his arm.
He stepped back, entirely out of my reach, his gaze cold as granite. "If you set foot in here again, I will call the police."
I stared at him, my heart breaking into a thousand jagged pieces. He meant every word. There was no warmth left in his heart for me—only ashes.
I stared at him, my throat completely tight. I bent down, picked the white envelope up off the floor, and shoved it back into my bag.
I turned around and stumbled toward the exit, the bell chiming as I pushed through the door.
The moment my feet hit the pavement outside, my knees gave out completely. I collapsed against the brick wall, burying my face in my hands as uncontrollable sobbing tore out of my chest. People walking by slowed down to look at me, but I couldn't stop crying on the sidewalk.