Chapter 189 Would You Have Kept It?
Olivia'd never told anyone about the miscarriage.
This was the first time she'd said it out loud to a friend.
"It was an accident."
"An accident," Sophie repeated carefully. Her eyes searched Olivia's. "But if it hadn't been... would you have kept it?"
Olivia's breath caught.
Outside the door, Ethan Bennett stood frozen in the hallway. His hand had stopped mid-reach for the door handle. He'd gone completely still, his breath held, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
He'd been waiting five years for the answer to that question.
Before Olivia could respond, Sophie kept talking. "You know what? Maybe it was for the best." Her voice was gentle but firm. "If you'd had that baby, you'd have been tied to him forever. No clean break. No freedom. Just... endless entanglement."
---
Ethan didn't enter the room.
He turned away from the door without a sound.
The hospital parking lot stretched out before him, fallen leaves skittering across the asphalt. A row of trees lined the edge of the property, their branches half-bare, the remaining leaves burning red and gold in the fading light.
He walked to the nearest one and stopped.
Then he pulled out a cigarette.
Ethan stood motionless under that palm tree, one hand in his pocket, the other bringing the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled deeply—too deeply—and the ember flared bright orange in the shade.
Justin waited until Ethan was halfway through the cigarette before he walked over. Slow. Careful.
"Hey." Justin stopped a few feet away. "You should ease up on those."
Ethan didn't respond. Just kept smoking, his eyes fixed on something far away.
The cigarette burned fast—one long drag after another, ash falling in a steady stream.
Justin tried again. "Look. I know this sucks, but love doesn't always mean holding on," he said quietly. "Sometimes it means letting go. Letting her have the life she wants. That's love too. Maybe even deeper."
The cigarette had burned down to the filter. Ethan flicked it into the nearby trash can, his jaw tight.
Justin pressed on. "You need to move on. Find someone new. With your status, your money—hell, you could find a twenty-year-old model tomorrow if you wanted. It wouldn't even be hard."
Ethan's eyes cut toward him. Sharp. Cold.
"Got nothing better to do than run your mouth?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Justin blinked. "I mean, I've got work, but—"
"Then why the fuck are you still standing here talking shit?"
"You know what? You deserve this. You're the one making yourself miserable. You chose this suffering."
"Get the fuck out of my sight." Ethan's hand shot out, grabbed a Coke bottle from the top of the trash can, and hurled it.
---
Olivia's illness didn't require hospitalization or IV drips. The doctor prescribed medication and sent her home with instructions to rest and avoid stress.
As they headed downstairs, Olivia turned to Sophie. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I ruined everyone's night."
Sophie grabbed her arm, stopping her in the hallway. "Don't ever apologize for being sick. You didn't choose this." Her voice was firm but kind. "Besides, we're friends. This is what friends do."
Olivia managed a small smile.
When the elevator doors opened on the first floor, Sophie stepped out first. Olivia followed.
She didn't expect to see Blake standing just outside the elevator doors.
Olivia's first instinct was to pretend she didn't recognize him, to walk past without acknowledgment.
But Blake spoke first.
"Olivia."
Sophie glanced between them, reading the tension immediately. "I'll wait outside," she said, touching Olivia's shoulder briefly before heading toward the glass doors.
Olivia watched her go, then turned back to Blake. Her voice was flat. "What do you want?"
"How are you? Why did you pass out? Low blood sugar? Overwork?"
"Low blood sugar." The lie came easily.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. "Here. Your favorite flavor."
Olivia didn't take it. She walked past him toward the exit.
Blake followed, keeping pace beside her.
"Do you remember the first time I brought you to Bennett Estate? When you met my uncle? He was twenty-eight years old then."
Her head turned slightly, just enough to see across the parking lot.
Ethan stood beneath a palm tree, a cigarette between his lips. Smoke curled around his face, obscuring his features.
Blake's voice continued beside her, soft and deliberate. "And now, I'm twenty-eight years old too."
Olivia stared at Ethan through the haze of smoke. Her throat felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton—dry, scratchy, suffocating.
Then Blake's hand landed on her shoulder.
"Can the twenty-eight-year-old Blake Bennett pursue Olivia Reed again?"
---
The autumn wind picked up, cold and sharp. The setting sun cast long shadows across the parking lot.
Blake stood beside Olivia, backlit by fading light. At twenty-eight, he'd become what men are at their peak—tall, solid, confident. No longer the reckless boy, not yet worn down by middle age. Just power and presence.
Across the lot, Ethan stood beneath the tree.
Thirty-six. Approaching forty. He'd achieved everything young—fame, wealth, influence—and it showed. The sharp edges had dulled into weariness.
Olivia's gaze moved from one man to the other.
For a moment, Blake's face overlapped with memory. Nineteen-year-old Blake, cornering her on a campus path nine years ago, asking if he could pursue her.
She'd known better then. The gap was too wide—Cinderella and the prince didn't work for girls like her.
She'd said no.
He'd made her pay for it. A year of relentless pursuit, manipulation, coercion. Until she broke and said yes just to make it stop.
Saying yes had been worse.
Now, staring at Blake's waiting smile, she felt something twist in her chest—rage and exhausted amusement.
Her lips curved. Cold. Mocking.
She said nothing. Just turned and walked away.
Behind her, uncle and nephew stood on opposite ends of the parking lot.
Both watching her leave.
---
Blake lit a cigarette and walked over to where Ethan stood. He stopped a few feet away, grinning like he'd just won a hand of poker.
"Looks like we're even now, Uncle." He took a drag, exhaling slowly. "She doesn't want you either."
"What exactly are you so proud of?"
"Nothing." He shrugged, still grinning. "Misery loves company, right?"
Jonathan appeared from the side entrance, jogging over to throw an arm around Blake's shoulders. "There you are! Where the hell have you been for the past six months?"
Blake let himself be steered away from Ethan, his posture relaxing. "Around. Working. You know how it is."
They walked off together toward the landscaped garden area.
---
Alexander stepped beside Ethan, watching them go. "You can't hold this grudge forever. What you did five years ago—taking her from him—that was wrong. He's your nephew."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"You owe him," Alexander pressed.
"Want me to give him my life too?" Ethan's voice was ice.
Alexander threw up his hands. "Forget it. You're impossible."
Jackson appeared, stepping between them. "Enough. Both of you." He clapped Alexander's shoulder. "Let's get drinks. My treat. We'll get drunk and forget this mess."
He pulled Alexander away, still talking.