Chapter 168

Andrew's POV

Since Mrs. Harrison had given birth to little Avery, I'd noticed a significant change in Mr. Harrison. Despite his reputation for being all business, he'd been leaving the office notably earlier each day. The way his eyes softened when he mentioned his son—though he tried to hide it—told me everything I needed to know about his feelings for the child.

I'd secretly been hoping that baby Avery might bridge whatever gap existed between Mr. Harrison and Mrs. Harrison. Their marriage had always seemed... unconventional, to say the least. But a child changes things. At least, that's what I believed.

That early September evening, I was waiting outside the private room at Starlight, as was my usual duty when Mr. Harrison met with important clients. Tonight's meeting with a partner enterprise had gone exceptionally well—I could tell from the handshakes and smiles when they emerged from the room.

"Mr. Harrison, looking forward to our partnership," said Mr. Green, the CEO of the partner enterprise, as he handed the signed contract to his secretary.

"Likewise," Mr. Harrison replied with his characteristic brevity.

Once the partner had departed, I stepped forward. "Sir, The Willows called about an hour ago. Mrs. Harrison mentioned she's attending a class reunion and will be home later than expected."

I'd received the message during the negotiations but hadn't wanted to interrupt. Mr. Harrison merely acknowledged with a short "Hmm," showing neither surprise nor concern. He simply instructed me to prepare the car for our return to The Willows.

As we crossed the club's main floor toward the elevators, a young man hurried past, clutching an elaborate bouquet of roses. He was so preoccupied with adjusting the flowers that he nearly collided with Mr. Harrison.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered, backing away quickly, his face flushing as he carefully protected the flowers.

Mr. Harrison barely glanced at him. "It's fine," he said dismissively, continuing toward the elevators.

The young man hurried off toward the lounge area, and I couldn't help but follow his path with my eyes. Something about his nervous energy and the expensive-looking bouquet piqued my curiosity.

What I saw next made my blood freeze.

There, seated in a corner of the lounge that was visible from our position near the elevators, was Mrs. Harrison—Olivia Reed Harrison herself. The young man approached her, his body language screaming nervousness as he extended the roses toward her.

"M-Mrs. Harrison?" I blurted before I could stop myself, pointing reflexively.

Ryan, who had been reviewing notes on his tablet, looked up in confusion. Worse, Mr. Harrison, who had been checking his messages, followed my gaze across the atrium.

I immediately regretted my outburst. Now I'd just drawn his attention to his wife receiving flowers from another man.

The air around us seemed to thicken. I stood rigidly, hardly daring to breathe.

"Sir," I ventured quietly, "should I... intervene?"

From our position, we couldn't hear their conversation, but the young man's body language told the story—he was declaring himself to Mrs. Harrison, that much was clear. He remained in his offering position, apparently delivering what must have been a rehearsed speech.

The elevator arrived with a ding that seemed unnaturally loud in our bubble of tension.

I carefully observed Mr. Harrison from the corner of my eye. His expression remained completely impassive—no tightening around the eyes, no clenched jaw, nothing to indicate what he might be feeling as he watched his wife being courted by another man.

He stepped into the elevator without comment, finally breaking his gaze from the scene.

"Back to The Willows," he instructed, his voice betraying nothing.

Ryan and I followed him into the elevator, both of us trying to appear as small and unobtrusive as possible.

I saw her hand move toward the bouquet—a gesture of acceptance, I thought—before the doors blocked my view.

I kept my eyes fixed on the elevator buttons, desperately wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. The fifteen-second ride down to the lobby stretched into what felt like hours.

Mr. Harrison remained silent, scrolling through emails on his phone as though nothing unusual had happened. But I'd worked for him long enough to recognize the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the barely perceptible tightening of his grip on his phone.

Olivia's POV

I'd accepted the invitation to the class reunion mainly to reconnect after my year-long academic leave. Getting back into campus life felt important, even if my circumstances had changed dramatically since I'd last walked these halls.

The main party was happening in a reserved karaoke room at the Starlight—loud music, drinking games, and all the typical college excitement. After an hour, I'd started feeling suffocated by the noise and slipped out to find a quiet corner in the lounge area. I just needed a moment to myself, to breathe.

That's when Anthony appeared.

Anthony—student council president, academic superstar, and undeniably handsome. The way he nervously approached with that elaborate bouquet of roses caught me completely off guard.

When I'd first entered Columbia, I'd briefly shown interest in joining the student council. With my typical half-hearted approach to extracurriculars back then, I should have been rejected immediately. I later learned Anthony, then a department head, had personally intervened to ensure my acceptance.

That was the first time I'd really noticed him.

Anthony wasn't just the professors' favorite; he was genuinely brilliant and stood out in the crowd of energetic college students. And his hands—I'd always had a thing for beautiful hands, and his were exactly my type: elegant, long-fingered, capable.

Before my arrangement with Maxwell, I might have seriously considered Anthony's proposition. Especially since my marriage contract explicitly permitted dating—technically, I had more freedom now than many single women.

"Olivia," he began, his voice betraying a slight tremor beneath his usual confidence. "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I like you. I was wondering if we could try dating?"

I froze, staring at the roses thrust toward me. My mind suddenly flooded with unexpected images—baby Avery's chubby face making those adorable gurgling sounds, Maxwell gently showing me how to hold our son, the quiet breakfasts where he'd slide my prenatal vitamins across the table without comment.

Those mundane moments that occasionally made our arrangement feel like a real marriage.

Yet facing his unexpected confession, I felt none of the delight I'd anticipated from such attention. There was no excitement at the prospect of finally exercising my freedom to date whomever I wanted.

Instead, my mind kept returning to Avery's tiny face and those small, seemingly insignificant moments with Maxwell over the past few months.

Before I could even process these thoughts fully, my body made the decision for me. I found myself gently pushing the flowers back toward Anthony, my voice soft but certain.

"I'm sorry, Anthony. I'm not looking to date anyone right now."

His face fell instantly, hope draining away. He withdrew the bouquet, summoning a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I understand," he said, maintaining his dignity despite the rejection. "You've just returned to school, and your coursework must be demanding right now. Maybe this wasn't the right timing." He paused, rallying his courage. "If you ever change your mind... I'll be here."

I nodded, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and certainty. I should have been flattered by his interest—he was exactly the type of guy I would have pursued before. Smart, handsome, kind.

But something had shifted inside me, something I wasn't quite ready to examine too closely.

Watching Anthony walk away with his wilted hopes and rejected roses, I caught myself fidgeting with my fingers.

I pulled out my phone to check the time—probably should head back.

Somehow, the word "home" didn't feel strange anymore when I thought about the house I shared with Maxwell.