Chapter 299 The Forgotten King

Chapter 299 The Forgotten King
OLIVIA'S POV

A year can change everything.

The business world had forgotten David Wilson. The man who once commanded boardrooms with his mere presence, whose decisions shaped markets and whose name dominated financial headlines, had faded from public consciousness like last season's trend. There had been a brief flurry of speculation when he first disappeared—rumors of a nervous breakdown, a secret illness, even foul play—but soon enough, new scandals and rising stars captured the media's attention.

In his place rose a figure previously unknown to most of the fashion elite. Andrew Wilson emerged from obscurity to take control of the Wilson empire with surprising efficiency. Tall, broad-shouldered, with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look straight through you, he quickly became tabloid fodder.

Whispers followed him everywhere: He was David's illegitimate half-brother. He had connections to European crime syndicates. The two brothers had fallen for the same woman. Unlike David, who had cultivated media relationships, Andrew refused all interview requests, letting the speculation swirl around him.

As for me, life had transformed beyond recognition. O&E Designs had exploded onto the international stage, becoming one of the most celebrated woman-owned businesses in sustainable fashion. My days were filled with design meetings, sustainability conferences, and strategic planning sessions. I laughed more, cried less.

Yet in the bottom drawer of my desk, hidden beneath fabric swatches and technical sketches, I kept a small collection of photographs. David smiling on our wedding day. David holding Ethan's hand happily. David asleep on our couch, his face peaceful in a way it rarely was while awake. These memories remained mine alone, treasures I couldn't bring myself to discard despite everything that had happened.

Sometimes at night, when the house was quiet and Ethan slept peacefully, I'd open that drawer and trace David's face with my fingertip. The pain had dulled to a persistent ache—not the sharp agony of fresh wounds, but the lingering soreness of improperly healed scars. Success had filled many voids in my life, but not all of them.

"You're going to be amazing," Jessica whispered, adjusting the collar of my custom-designed blazer—a deep emerald piece from our anniversary collection. "Two years of O&E Designs. Who would have thought?"

I smiled, scanning the crowded rooftop venue where we were hosting our company's second anniversary celebration. Fashion editors, buyers, celebrities, and influencers mingled under string lights, champagne flutes glinting in the twilight. My team had transformed the space into an elegant showcase of our sustainable philosophy—living plants, recycled materials, and locally sourced refreshments.

"I still can't believe we pulled this off," I replied, watching Mia expertly guide a Vogue editor through our newest collection display. My chest swelled with a mixture of pride and disbelief. From sketching designs in a tiny Paris apartment to this—sometimes the journey seemed surreal, like someone else's life I'd stepped into.

"And your speech?" Jessica asked.

I patted my pocket. "Ready to go. Though I'm not sure why Andrew insisted on—"

The crowd's sudden shift in attention cut off my words. Andrew had arrived, and as always, his presence commanded the room. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his imposing physique, a limited-edition watch catching the light as he moved through the crowd. Even in Los Angeles, where celebrity sightings were commonplace, Andrew Wilson created a stir.

I watched the whispers ripple through the gathering. Was he dating the famous designer Olivia Peterson? Were the rumors about his connection to European fashion houses true? How had he managed to double the Wilson Group's market share in just twelve months?

"You look perfectly at home as the brightest star in the fashion universe, Olive," Andrew's deep voice came from behind me.

I raised an eyebrow. "You really know how to praise me."

His mouth curved into that half-smile I'd grown accustomed to. "Old habits."

"Did you see the Page Six piece?" I asked, accepting a champagne flute from a passing server. "They're speculating whether I'm going to be the future Mrs. Wilson." I couldn't help the sardonic edge in my voice. "Technically, I already was Mrs. Wilson once."

His expression remained unreadable. "You've become someone even I can't predict anymore. I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

"I'd call it growth," I replied, watching the city lights twinkle. Inside, I felt a flutter of satisfaction. There had been a time when I was entirely at the mercy of others' expectations and decisions—David's, the fashion industry's, even Andrew's. Now I stood on my own terms.

Andrew studied me for a long moment. "Have you given up on him?"

The question pierced through the ambient chatter and clinking glasses. I didn't need to ask who "him" was. My heart constricted painfully, the way it always did when David entered our conversations.

"No," I said firmly. "I visit twice a week. The staff at the recovery center says I'm the only person who does." I swallowed hard, fighting the lump forming in my throat. "He's gentle now. Peaceful, even. But he doesn't remember... anything. Not his name, not his company." My voice caught. "Today's his birthday, and he doesn't even know it. He certainly doesn't recognize Ethan as his son."

Andrew's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression shifting subtly. For a moment, I thought I saw uncertainty flicker across his features—an emotion I'd never associated with him.

"Olivia," he said, his voice strangely quiet. "Go to the east side of the roof. There's something you should see."

"What are you talking about? I have a speech to give in ten minutes." My pulse quickened inexplicably.

"Just go." His eyes held mine. "Please."

Confused but curious, I made my way through the crowd toward the east side of the rooftop. Behind me, I felt Andrew watching my retreat, his tall figure standing motionless amidst the celebration.

ANDREW'S POV

I watched her walk away. I almost called her back. Almost. The weight of my decision pressed against my chest like a physical burden. My hand twitched at my side, wanting to reach out and stop her.

I didn't believe in miracles. My life had taught me the harsh reality that power and control were the only certainties in this world. Everything else—love, loyalty, even family—could be negotiated, manipulated, or purchased for the right price. That's how I built my empire from the shadows while David basked in the spotlight.

But Olivia... she was different. Perhaps she still believed in life's miracles. Perhaps she deserved one, even if it might eventually cost me everything I'd worked for. I'd made my choice now—set forces in motion that I couldn't control. For the first time in decades, I wasn't holding all the cards.