Chapter Four: Everything

The butterflies in my stomach seem to want to spill. My gaze lands on the first seat in the lab before I slump down, starting with the heavy books in my arms.

I should have brought a backpack.

A person from beside me clears their throat; she is pretty with dark hair, brown eyes and light freckles that greatly disservice her bold and rebellious make up choice.

Come to think of it, weren't the people at the table noisy before I sat?

Did I interrupt them?

Good job, Olivia; let’s ruin our first day of university!

"I'm sorry."

I begin,

"Was there someone sitting here?"

"Yes."

The dark-haired woman answers before a handsome man with dark eyes interrupts her.

"Cut her some slack, Tasha. You can sit. I'm the one who kept quiet; I was...rapping. Which is probably not the most ideal thing to do in a classroom."

He responds with a faint blush.

"You rap?"

I ask, and his face softens to a smile before his lips part, letting eloquent and somewhat raunchy lines about my eyes and lips flow through. The warmth on my cheeks lets me know I am blushing, and before I can turn my face away, his hand laces with mine.

"I'm Vincent, and you are?"

***

"Miss Olivia?"

My eyes open to take in the mansion I grew up in through the car’s open door. It's just as cold, grey and defiantly clean as the day I left it.

"We have arrived."

What the hell was that dream?

The divorce document in my person is already enough to squeeze my chest; I mean, a failed marriage is typically the woman's fault, right?

For not being homely enough, or whatever?

So what’s the need for the dream if I already feel like shit without it?

My legs slide from the car as I make my way into the house. One maid after another utters the words 'this way' as if I do not know my mother's office. She isn't a woman who changes things easily, so I’m certain that even after three years, her office is still in the West Wing.

"Are you done gallivanting around with men, Bethany?"

Mother's tone is anything but warm.

How is that the first thing she says when I enter her home office?   

"Close the door and give me your divorce papers; I will file them for you."

I do as she says, but hang on to the documents.

"Olivia."

Mother likes calling me ‘Bethany’ when she feels soft but ‘Olivia’ when I get on her nerves. She hardly ever feels 'soft' long enough for me to remember what a hug from a mother feels like.

"Why?"

I ask.

"Haven't I already answered that? I will have someone file the papers for you."

“I can file them myself, or do you think I will change my mind?”

She doesn’t answer; Christ, she doesn’t trust me anymore.

I used to be the one she counted on for everything, and now…

I don’t know how to tell her that there is nothing to go back to with Vincent. He wanted to steal a piece of me without consent, and his accomplice was my best friend, who is, coincidentally, the woman he slept with in our bed while I was chaperoning his mother around like her incompetent slave.

"Two choices, Olivia: give me the documents and prepare for an informal interview announcing you as my heir and that effective immediately, you will be managing the athleisure line, or keep it that paper and leave this property."

"Mum!"

"How dare you 'mum' me when I told you what would happen if you ran off with the first man to approach you?"

"You make it sound as if I have no brain-"

"The document, or you walk out of here. This is not a request, Olivia.”

She cuts me off effectively; it's not that I am holding on to the papers because I have hope for Vincent… it's just… three years?

Three years is a lifetime; the moment I give these papers away…it is all gone.

Hah…but maybe…maybe it was already gone from the beginning.

My hand extends the document to my mother, who takes it after rounding the length of her table. For a moment, I brace myself for a hug, but she moves past me and grabs her coat instead.

"I'll drop this by the court while you shower; you have one hour to head to the studio for an interview with Gloria. We will announce you as my heir, and that you will be taking over Lawson fashion as a whole soon, but on paper, you will start with one line until I can trust you."

The door to her office clicks shut after her. Not even an 'Are you okay?' hangs in the air.

I almost laugh at the odd loneliness, but the door swings open, and my younger sister, Elizabeth, peers in.

"Girl!"

She drawls with an amused smile the moment our gazes meet.

"That crazy dick! I can't believe his nerve! Did you tell mum about him?"

“Did she even ask?”

I shrug, and she frowns.

“She didn’t? That’s odd; mum was pacing since she knew her favourite child was coming home; she was so excited she asked the cooks to make your favourite meal for supper.”

“Which is?”

“Rice and cashew chicken.”

‘Favourite child’, and she doesn’t remember I developed a nut allergy?

“Yap, she must be really excited that I am back.”

So excited that she wants to kill me with this dinner.

“Anyway, I should get ready for an interview she set up. What time are you heading back to your place?”

“To get my stuff? Maybe at three.”

She answers.

“To get your stuff, what happened?”

“There was a leak, and the landlord wants to contain it, so hey, good news, we are both back home! Now, back to the divorce thing, did you sign a prenup?”

“I did.”

I answer as I walk out of Mum’s office to head to my room; she follows behind, prodding more questions despite my discomfort.

“There has to be something the lawyer can do to sue for seventy per cent of his wealth; he cheated, right? That’s mental harm right there!”

I only told my sister that he cheated; everything else that happened at the hospital, even the falling down the stairs bit, feels too surreal to be shared.

"Eliza, I don't want anything from him."

"Seriously? But wouldn't it feel better to come out as an heir to a multibillionaire company after stealing seventy per cent of your ex-husband’s fortune? We have good lawyers. What are you afraid of?”

"Yes, yes."

I humour with ease before sliding into my room and shutting the door in her face.

I don’t want anything from him.

My eyes take in the room before me after my quick sigh.

It's almost as if time has stood still; there's not a speck of dust, yet everything remained the same way I left it.

My phone buzzes, a quick text from an unsaved number.

[Don't come crawling back to my brother, you whore! Do you have any idea how he loved you?]

The number ends with a three, six and nine. It must be from Mia, Vincent's sister.

My fingers move to block the number before a laugh leaves my lips.

“The nerve.”

**

"Good late afternoon, everyone; I'm your host, Gloria from Gloria's Tea, here with an exciting guest formerly shrouded in mystery."

I roll my eyes from backstage at the host's theatrics.

"Have you ever wondered what the wealthy multibillionaire Veronica Lawson's heir looks like? Their story? Their childhood."

The crowd hushes.

"My guest this evening is none other than Olivia Lawson, the firstborn child of the two well-hidden Lawson daughters."

I don't know what the cheers are for, but I take it as my cue to enter the stage.

Hah...my former mother and sister-in-law love this show; I should smile for them; I hope they watch this episode.

"Hello darling, you are beautiful, the spitting image of Veronica Lawson."

"Well, she is my mother."

The host chuckles and nods her head before squaring up to look at me.

"So, why now? Why have you chosen to reveal yourself now and to a gossip show first, no less? I would have thought it would have been the presses field day."

"There will be a press conference soon, but for now, fashion is associated with gossip more often than not, so this is as good a start as any."

I respond.

"And not a moment too soon, especially after the debacle with David, your mother's former protégé."

David?

"But enough about the bad, let's talk about you. Are you seeing anybody? We hardly know anything about the Lawsons."

Gloria asks, shrugging at the mention of ‘David’ as if I knew him.

"I am freshly divorced. So fresh one might think I was still married yesterday.”

I tease before continuing.

“So, no. I am not seeing anybody."

"Noo! What man wouldn't want to keep a rich, gorgeous beauty like yourself."

She gawks.

"Thank you."

I answer dismissively, knowing she only said that to get the full story; this is, after all, a gossip show.

"There will be some changes to the Lawson fashion line, but nothing that won't be for the better. Look out for the Lawson magazine for all the hot news, latest changes and perhaps an open interview on my childhood, who knows."

I shrug, waving off the self-promotion at almost the same time the production team signals for a commercial break.

"When we come back..."

Gloria snaps to the camera as she continues wrapping up the show with a smile before the producers begin to discuss the show's second half audibly, signalling that the show is on commercial and my five minutes as a surprise guest are up.

"Smart, but I still want to know; the viewers want to know what happened with your relationship for you to get divorced."

"A lot, but unfortunately, I have another appointment that I must get to. Thank you for hosting, Gloria."

“A divorce is messy, even if you come from money, Miss Lawson. I can help you get the people of this great nation of Devnia on your side.”

I smile at her offer as I stand and begin exiting the stage.

“I am sure you can.”

I respond coldly before the countdown from one of her crew about the start of the show's second half begins; even as I head to my dressing room, I still feel her gaze on my back.

My phone buzzes, yet another text.

[7:00 pm waterfront hotel.]

It’s an unknown number so I respond briefly.

[?]

[Have you forgotten your owner, cagnolina?]

Right...I made a deal with the devil.

That he is texting me now means he has seen the interview and knows who I am and that I can give him any amount of money he wants as a reward.

“Good.”

I breathe, and before typing an ‘I’ll be there’, I bring up my search engine to find out what ‘cagnolina’ means.

Shit.

***

"Cagnolina, you look beautiful beyond words."

My hero and devil says as he greets me from his seat at the hotel’s restaurant.

Was he this handsome before, or is the hotel's lighting good for one’s skin?

His eyes are a greenish grey that blends subtly with the dark brown of his hair.

His hands rake the mass, drawing my attention to their size. They are big. Everything about this man looks...big.

I clear my throat to focus on anything but him.

It's seven pm, why would a restaurant be empty?

"Sit, or is my dog lacking in manners that it wants to eat while standing?"

He asks coldly.

Dog? How dare he continue to call me that when he has seen the interview? I mean, he must have, right? The show is immensely popular.

"How much?"

I ask, and he frowns.

I roll my eyes, stand my ground and repeat myself.

"How much for us to be even? You saved me at the hospital, and I'm paying you back now, so how much do you want from me?"

His brows strain slightly before a loud laugh escapes him.

I never knew the sound of a person’s laughter could elicit butterflies inside my stomach.

"You said you'd give me anything, cagnolina. Why do you think I will settle for money?”

He stands from his seat and walks towards me; I almost take a step back. His presence is too...imposing.

My neck cranes upwards to take him in when his hand seizes the opportunity for his fingers to wrap around my neck; it's shocking how well my neck fits in his hands.

A sudden fear that he could snap my neck finds me before an utterly absurd and sudden ripple of pleasure courses through me.

At this moment, I am under his mercy, under his command.

"I do not want money from you. I want everything, cagnolina."

He whispers before his lips capture mine before even a whimper can escape me.