Bigger Threat?

Bigger Threat?
CHAPTER 61
Olivia;

Two long, restless days had passed since the confrontation, and now it was the eve of the wedding.

The wedding planning was in full swing, the house buzzed with life—florists, decorators, the distant hum of generators— but I had been a frantic mess all day and night. I hadn't heard from Damon. Not even a glimpse of him since I returned to this house.

Just this morning, Mr. Kingston summoned me to his office. and he assured me, much to my obvious relief, that the wedding with Marcus was officially nullified, and I shouldn't have to worry about him anymore. However, the wedding still holds.

I was so elated, especially when he said the information had been passed to Damon already.

I knew this was a huge loss to Marcus. I didn't want to bother about how he was taking it at the moment. I knew how much he wanted this marriage. How much he wanted to secure his position in his father's company. But I wasn't sorry I didn't get to be his ticket to his success. He laid his bed so he should fucking lie on it.

It was all happening so fast and in such short notice. My dress was already set. The event would be happening at the back garden of the Kingston's and that also made me worry.

Damon hasn't showed up since that day. And if, as his father had said, he had been informed about the wedding, why wasn't he here then? He should know where to find me if I wasn't at my place. Yeah, he had mentioned a few times how he didn't fancy being under the same roof with them. But he should be here by now.

My head was filled with a lot of what Ifs, that I was beginning to freak out.

I hadn't seen Marcus and Kimberly since the day I outed them. I haven't seen Wendy as well. My guess was she was so devastated that she couldn't steal out of her room. I couldn't blame her. Even when I realized how defensive she was being towards Marcus the other day, at the end of the day, Kimberly was still her daughter and this was a huge slap in the face.

It made me think about my Mom. An invitation was already sent to her, but I doubt if she'd show up. The last time I checked on her, despite the beef between us, she'd hurled insults at me and warned me never to show my face to her until I get married.

That was by the way, though.

Right now, I can't help but feel some type of way regarding Damon's absence. He was upset the last time we spoke, and I..

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts as I snapped my head towards the door. My breath caught. My pulse quickened.

My brows pulled together as I hastily stood from the chair beside the dresser, my eyes lightening as I exhaled in sheer relief.

It had to be him. Damon. I hurried to the door, smoothing my hair, my lips curving into a shaky smile.

But the second the door swung open, my smile froze.
Marcus.

His face was dark—eyes bloodshot, jaw set like stone.

I was suddenly pushed back into the room, the door shutting behind him.

Panic exploded through me. His hand shot to my throat, fingers tightening like a vice. My body slammed against the wall, the impact sending a sharp pain down my spine. I clawed at his wrist, gasping for air.

“What are you doing?” I croaked, my voice barely a whisper through the pressure around my neck.

A wicked smirk curled on his lip. I could see the pain in his eyes. I could see the anger in them.

He leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting against my ear. “You think you’re smart, huh?” His voice was pure venom, dripping with hatred.

I was struggling to breathe and beginning to panic, my gaze wandering towards the door, “Marcus… st—stop…” I wheezed, my nails digging into his arm as tears stung my eyes.

“Are you happy now? Are you happy you ruined my life, Olivia?” he roared, spit flying, his grip trembling with rage. “ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?!”

I flinched in fear, desperately hoping for someone to come in.

But he scoffed immediately, following my gaze. "Nah. You aren't that smart. You're just some foolish little girl who thinks she could make the world revolve around her if she does so much as breathe. I bet you had no idea this room was sound proof, did you?"

The sinister look in his eyes made my breath hitch, and I tried to hide the panic already brewing in me. "What do you want, Marcus? We can talk about this."

I had no idea what his plan was. I knew he was upset. Pissed even. But the look in his eyes was one I didn't think I had seen before. Pure rage.

His hands around my neck slackened, and then he shoved me away so suddenly that I stumbled, nearly hitting the dresser as I struggled to regain my balance.

He started stalking toward me, and I automatically moved back in fear.

“Marcus, this isn’t funny,” I said shakily, but he didn’t stop. He kept coming closer until there was barely an inch of space between us.

“How could you?” he whispered.

His voice was raw, almost breaking. “Why, Liv? Why would you do that? Do you know what my father said to me? Do you have any idea what I’ve FUCKING LOST!?”

His fist slammed forward, smashing into the dressing mirror. The glass shattered instantly, spraying shards across the floor.

I screamed so loud that my throat burned. I dropped to the ground, throwing my arms over my head as pieces of glass clattered around me.

I was trembling uncontrollably now, my whole body shaking in disbelief. No, this isn’t happening. It can’t be. It has to be a nightmare. My eyes darted to the broken glass glittering on the floor, then slowly back to Marcus.

Blood was dripping from his knuckles, his hands clenched so tight that his veins bulged beneath the skin.

“Helppp!” I cried out, my voice cracking as I screamed again. “Help! Somebody help!”

The door burst open. Both our heads snapped toward it. Marcus froze, eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe anyone would dare interrupt.

And then I saw him—Damon. The moment our eyes met, something inside me broke.

Before I could blink, he was beside us. In one swift motion, he grabbed Marcus and flung him off me like he weighed nothing.

The sound of Marcus hitting the ground echoed through the room, but I barely heard it. All I could feel was relief—like a massive weight had been ripped off my chest.

My knees buckled, but I didn’t fall. My feet moved on their own, straight toward him, and then I was clutching my man—pressing my entire body against him as if I could sink into him and disappear.