Chapter 37 37
The door opened suddenly.
“Sweetheart!”
Olivia rushed in, radiant, worry already replaced by relief as she crossed the room in quick steps.
She dropped her purse without care and leaned over the bed, cupping Lucas’s face.
“You scared me,” she breathed, eyes shining. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Lucas forced a smile.
“I’m fine,” he said softly, even as his body resisted the lie.
She hugged him tightly, pressing herself against him. He hesitated for half a second—then wrapped an arm around her, returning the embrace because that was what was expected of him.
She pulled back just enough to kiss him.
Her lips brushed his.
And something went wrong.
The moment her mouth touched his, a sharp, unfamiliar sensation shot through him—not warmth, not comfort, but confusion. His chest tightened. His mind flashed, uninvited, to another set of lips.
Lips that had done something to him he couldn’t name.
Lucas stiffened .
Olivia kissed him again, slower this time, lingering like she was reclaiming something. He kissed back, carefully—but the feeling refused to come.
It wasn’t her.
And that realization unsettled him more than the memory loss ever could.
He pulled back slightly, masking it with a breathy chuckle. “Hey… I just woke up.”
Olivia smiled, brushing his hair back affectionately. “Of course. I’ll let you rest.”
She leaned in once more, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
Lucas stared ahead as she turned away, his heart beating just a little too fast.
Because whoever those mystery lips belonged to—
They had left a mark on him.
Lucas’s breathing suddenly stopped.
At first, it was subtle—just a tightness in his chest, a faint buzzing under his skin. Then his fingers began to tremble against the sheets.
Olivia noticed immediately.
“Lucas?” she said, alarm creeping into her voice.
He pressed a hand to his sternum, brows knitting together as the room felt… too loud. Too bright. His pulse thudded unevenly in his ears.
“My pills,” he muttered. “I— they’re not here.”
His gaze darted around the bedroom like something was closing in on him.
Olivia straightened at once. “Your anxiety meds?”
“Yes,” he snapped, then softened it quickly. “They’re… they’re in the study. I left them there.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Stay here,” she said firmly, already moving toward the door. “Don’t get up. I’ll be right back.”
Lucas nodded, jaw clenched as he lay back against the pillows, forcing slow breaths the way the doctors had taught him.
In.
Out.
But his mind betrayed him anyway.
.
A girl kneeling eyes locked on his.
Lips he couldn’t remember—but felt.
His fingers dug into the sheets.
Meanwhile, Olivia hurried down the corridor, heels clicking sharply as she headed for the study, unease settling in her chest.
She pushed the door open—
And stepped inside,
Olivia moved quickly, opening drawers, checking the desk, her movements sharp with urgency.
“Come on… come on…” she muttered.
Then she saw them.
The small pill bottle sat near the edge of the desk. Relief flooded her chest as she grabbed it—
—and a folded paper slipped out from beneath it, fluttering down softly onto the floor.
Her eyes followed it instinctively.
She froze.
Slowly, she bent and picked it up.
It was old. Creased. Clearly handled too many times.
Something about it made her heart pound.
She unfolded it.
Her breath caught.
\---
I loved your eyes.
I knew my heir would have the same eyes.
Butterfly tattoos are my favorite… and I love yours.
I’m admitting my mistakes.
Can you come back to me?
I see your eyes everywhere I go.
\---
Olivia’s hands began to shake.
She knew that handwriting.
She had seen it on contracts, notes, private letters—
Lucas’s handwriting.
Her vision blurred.
“No…” she whispered.
Her chest tightened painfully as realization clawed its way in. Whoever this letter was meant for… it wasn’t her.
And worse—
It never had been.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Olivia flinched violently, quickly folding the letter and slipping it back where she found it. She grabbed the pill bottle just as a maid appeared at the door.
“Take these to Mr. Brooks. Now,” Olivia said sharply, forcing calm into her voice as she pressed the bottle into the maid’s hands. “Make sure he takes them.”
“Yes, miss,” the maid replied, hurrying away.
Olivia remained standing in the study.
Alone.
The silence crashed down on her.
Her composure shattered.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, tears spilling freely now, her body trembling as she leaned against the desk for support.
That letter wasn’t written for her.
And whoever she was—
She had Lucas’s heart long before Olivia ever touched it.
A soft knock broke the silence.
“Miss Olivia?”
She swiped at her tears quickly, lifting her head just as a maid stepped in.
“Young Master Brooks might need you,” the maid said gently. “He’s asking for you.”
Olivia forced a smile so practiced it almost hurt. “Of course. Thank you.”
She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and walked out as if nothing had happened—heels steady, posture perfect.
Back in the bedroom, Lucas turned his head the moment she entered.
“There you are,” he said, relief flickering across his face. “I thought you left.”
She crossed the room and sat beside him, offering another smile. This one was softer. Fragile.
“I just went to get your medication,” she replied. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” he said, reaching for her hand. His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, slow and affectionate. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her chest tightened.
He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, eyes warm. “You always take care of me.”
Romantic. Tender.
And completely untethered from her.
Olivia swallowed, her thoughts spiraling.
Butterfly tattoos are my favorite… and I love yours.
She gently pulled her hand back, her smile wavering for half a second.
Lucas frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Of course not.”
She forced a small laugh and leaned back, creating space between them without making it obvious.
“I’m just tired,” she added. “It’s been a long day.”
But her mind was screaming.
I don’t have a butterfly tattoo.