Chapter 82
Oliver's POV
One year ago - The charity auction
Sophia was standing in the corner of the auction hall, speaking quietly with a man I didn't recognize. They stood close together, the man's hand gently touching her arm, and she was laughing—the kind of laugh I thought she reserved only for me.
I was about to walk over when Samantha appeared beside me.
"Oh," she said, her voice carrying false sympathy. "You haven't heard yet?"
"Heard what?" I asked, my gaze still locked on Sophia.
"Sophia and Allen. They've been together for three months now." Samantha sighed. "I thought you knew. After all, you two are so close..."
I felt my stomach drop. Allen Clark—heir to Clark Industries, handsome, wealthy, perfect. Of course Sophia would choose him over me.
"She looks so happy," Samantha continued, her voice sickeningly sweet. "They're discussing engagement. Dad says Mr. Clark has already made a formal proposal to Charles."
I watched Sophia smile at the man, watched her nod in response to whatever he was saying. Every gesture felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
"I suppose I should go congratulate them," I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant.
"Oliver, maybe don't go over there," Samantha said with mockery. "You don't want to seem... desperate, do you?"
She was right. I was pathetic enough already.
So I turned and left. No goodbye, no explanation.
After that, I threw all my energy into the company, closing off my heart.
---
Three months later
I was leaving the Davidson Group building when I saw her. Sophia, standing by the security desk, arguing with the guard.
"I just need five minutes," she was saying. "Please, just tell him Sophia Wilson is here."
The guard had been shaking his head. "Mr. Davidson left strict instructions. No personal visitors during business hours."
I could have walked over. Could have vouched for her, brought her upstairs.
Instead, I'd taken the executive elevator, avoiding her entirely.
Later, I'd learned she'd waited for three hours.
I thought everything between us had ended long ago, but when I saw her again, I knew I hadn't let go of those feelings.
At the time, I thought she was coming to invite me to her wedding, but later I learned that Sophia had defied her father.
I wondered if it was because of me that she refused the alliance. I didn't dare ask—I was afraid of falling into despair again.
We became strangers. I told myself I was protecting my heart.
In reality, I was just a coward.
---
Samantha's voice cut through my memories like a knife. "You know, Sophia, I'm surprised you haven't said hello to Oliver yet. You two used to be such... close friends."
"Samantha," I warned, my voice low.
But she was just getting started. "Oh, come on. We're all adults here. Surely we can acknowledge that you two had quite the... understanding."
Sophia's composure finally cracked, just slightly. "Samantha, you really do spend all your time stirring up trouble, don't you?"
"I'm just making conversation," Samantha replied innocently. Then, turning around, she seemed to stumble, her wine glass tilting.
The deep red liquid splashed across Sophia's dress, staining the pristine fabric like blood.
---
The garden went silent. Every guest turned to stare as the wine dripped from Sophia's dress.
"Oh my goodness!" Samantha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "I'm so sorry! How clumsy of me!"
But her eyes were bright with satisfaction, and I saw the truth immediately. It hadn't been an accident.
Sophia stood frozen, wine dripping from her clothes, her face pale with shock and humiliation.
"Don't worry," Samantha continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I'm sure you have plenty of other white suits. Though I suppose this one was special, wasn't it? Wasn't this the one you wore to the charity auction a year ago?"
That bitch. She'd done this deliberately.
I moved without thinking.
The slap echoed across the garden like a gunshot.
Samantha stumbled backward, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"Oliver!" she gasped. "What the hell—"
"Apologize. Now." I said, my voice deadly quiet.
The entire garden had gone silent. I could feel dozens of eyes on us, could practically hear the phones coming out to record this moment.
My father pushed through the crowd, his face thunderous. "Oliver! What do you think you're doing?"
"She deliberately ruined Sophia's dress," I said, not taking my eyes off Samantha. "And she's going to apologize for it."
"She's your sister," my father snapped. "You don't raise a hand to family."
"It's her behavior that's tarnishing the Davidson family image," I replied evenly.
My father's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will apologize to your sister immediately, or you can pack your things and get out of my house."
I looked at him for a long moment, this man who'd raised me but never really seen me as a son. Then I looked at Samantha, still holding her cheek, her eyes bright with tears of rage and humiliation.
Finally, I looked at Sophia, standing there with wine staining her dress, her blue eyes wide with something that might have been hope.
"You know what?" I said, reaching up to remove the Davidson family crest from my suit jacket. I dropped it at my father's feet. "I'd rather have no family at all than one that protects bullies and punishes people for doing what's right."
The pin hit the marble with a small, metallic sound that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
"Oliver," my father said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're making a mistake."
"No," I said, straightening my shoulders. "I'm just making the right choice."
I turned to Sophia, picking up a clean towel to wipe the stains from her dress. She was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "For tonight, and for... everything else."
Before she could respond, I heard Grace's voice cutting through the crowd.
"What the hell is going on here?"
I turned to see Grace pushing through the gathered guests, Alex close behind her, both of them taking in the scene with sharp, assessing eyes.
Grace's gaze moved from Sophia's ruined dress to Samantha's red cheek to the family crest lying on the ground at my father's feet.
Then she stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and my father.