Chapter 173

Chapter 173
Marcus's POV

The weekend visit to The Willows was long overdue. Between managing Reed Investments and handling the endless stream of meetings, I'd barely had time to check on my sister and nephew. When I walked through the door carrying a ridiculous number of toys for little Avery, I half-expected to be greeted by Olivia's usual whirlwind of energy.

Instead, I found a quieter house than I remembered. The housekeeper informed me that Olivia was upstairs with the baby. I headed up, determined to be the fun uncle I'd always promised to be.

Avery was absolutely perfect—all round cheeks and curious eyes. I spent nearly an hour entertaining him with the toys I'd brought, watching his tiny hands reach for everything colorful. He had Maxwell's eyes, there was no denying it, but his expressions were all Olivia.

"You're going to be a handful just like your mother, aren't you?" I whispered, tickling his stomach.

When I finally headed downstairs, I spotted Olivia curled up on the sofa. Something was off. My normally vibrant sister looked pale, withdrawn—a shadow of her usual self.

"What's with the sick face? Another cold?" I asked, taking a seat across from her.

She nodded weakly, clutching her water glass. "Just the weather change. Caught a little something."

I didn't believe her for a second.

I've known Olivia her entire life. When she's genuinely ill, she's still Olivia—just louder, more dramatic, demanding attention and sympathy from everyone within earshot. This quiet, subdued version of my sister was entirely unfamiliar.

Swirling the scotch in my glass, I decided to cut through the bullshit.

"Had a fight with Maxwell?"

The slight jerk of her hand nearly sent water splashing over the rim of her glass. Bingo.

"Fight? With him?" She scoffed, setting her glass down with forced casualness. "What would we even fight about? He's not even here. Still on his business trip."

I've watched her lie since she was five years old stealing cookies from the kitchen. Some things never change.

"How thoughtful of him," I remarked dryly. "Your son is barely a few months old, and your husband disappears for over two weeks on 'business.'"

Olivia hugged a throw pillow to her chest defensively. "I'm perfectly fine on my own. I don't need him hovering."

I studied her for a long moment. The way her fingers unconsciously gripped the pillow told me everything I needed to know.

"I heard your class is taking a field trip next week," I said, changing tactics. "Going somewhere interesting?"

Some tension visibly left her shoulders. "Yeah, we're heading to the countryside for three days. It'll be nice to get some fresh air."

"Does Maxwell know?"

Her eyes dropped slightly. "Not yet. I'll tell him... eventually."

I took a slow sip of my drink, then decided to ask what I'd been wondering since I arrived.

"Olivia," I said, using her full name to signal I was serious, "do you have feelings for Maxwell?"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Of course not," she answered too quickly.

But her fingers gripped the pillow tighter, creating deep wrinkles in the fabric. A tell she'd had since childhood.

"You know," I said gently, "you've always clenched your fingers when you lie to me. Ever since you were little."

She immediately released her grip and flipped the pillow over, but the damage was done. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her complexion even paler than before.

I sighed, setting my glass down. This wasn't how I'd expected this conversation to go.

"Look, I wasn't thrilled about this arrangement with the Harrisons from the beginning. But contracts and marriages aside, if you've genuinely fallen for the guy, I won't stand in your way. Hell, I'll help you keep him if that's what you want."

She rolled her eyes, a flash of the old Olivia returning. "You've been eyeing Harrison Group assets since before I even signed the marriage certificate."

I grinned, glad to see some spark return. "That's not eyeing—that's simply appreciating what's legally yours. And who doesn't like money?"

For just a moment, I caught a glimpse of my actual sister beneath the melancholy, and I hoped whatever was happening between her and Maxwell would resolve itself soon.

Because the Olivia I knew deserved nothing less than happiness, contract or not.

Olivia's POV

Monday morning arrived with the crisp certainty of routine. I kissed Avery goodbye, leaving him with his nanny after triple-checking that they had everything they needed. The drive to Columbia felt longer than usual, my thoughts scattered and unfocused as I met my classmates for the field trip.

Before boarding the bus, I checked my phone one last time. Maxwell had texted hours ago with his usual reminder to take my iron supplements. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I typed:

[Going on a field trip for a few days.]

His response came almost immediately: [Okay.]

Just that. One word. I stared at those four letters until my screen went dark, unreasonably annoyed. No questions about where I was going, when I'd be back, or even if I'd arranged proper care for Avery. Just... "okay."

I shoved my phone into my bag, irritation burning in my chest.

The three days away should have been refreshing. The countryside was beautiful, the activities were engaging, and being away from The Willows gave me room to breathe. But something felt off—a heaviness I couldn't shake, like I'd left something important unfinished.

When I returned home Thursday evening, I was surprised to find Maxwell's shoes in the entryway. Andrew told me Maxwell had just gotten back from handling his business—he'd arrived only a few hours before me. Nearly twenty days apart, and now we were suddenly under the same roof again.

Dinner was a quiet affair. We sat across from each other at that ridiculously long table, the silence punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware against china. He asked about Avery's development. I asked about his business trip. We exchanged information like colleagues at a conference, not two people raising a child together.

After dinner, I lounged on the sofa scrolling mindlessly through Instagram while Maxwell spoke with Avery's pediatrician in the study. When he emerged and walked past me toward the stairs, I called out to him before I could second-guess myself.

"Maxwell?"

He stopped, turning toward me with that perfectly controlled expression. "Yes? Are you feeling unwell?"

I gripped my water glass tighter, suddenly nervous.

"When our contract expires..." I began, keeping my eyes on the glass, "if Avery stays with you, will he ever have a stepmother?"

The question hung in the air between us. When I finally looked up, his expression remained unreadable, but something flickered behind his eyes.

"No," he said firmly. "He will never have a stepmother."

I inhaled sharply, surprised by his certainty. Before I could lose my nerve, I pushed further.

"Avery's attached to both of us. What if, after our contract ends, he wants both his dad and mom?"