Chapter 25

Olivia stood frozen, her emerald eyes widening in shock as she stared at Liam.

"Olivia was just discharged from Mercy Hospital today. We thought a spa treatment would help her recover." Natalie rose gracefully, her gaze sharpening with protective fury. "I didn't expect to encounter homewreckers here!"

"Mr. Blackwood, that's not what happened!" Evelyn's friend countered immediately. "She attacked us first with her judgmental looks the moment she walked in!"

Liam ignored them all, striding directly toward Olivia. "Why were you discharged today?" His voice carried an edge.

Olivia gestured quickly, explaining that Dr. Carter had cleared her for discharge since her recovery progressed faster than expected.

"If you're well enough to leave the hospital," Liam's grip tightened around her wrist, "why come here instead of going home? You're coming with me."

The salon fell into stunned silence. No one anticipated Liam's reaction - least of all Olivia, who after a moment's hesitation, instinctively glanced toward Natalie for guidance.

"Go ahead," Natalie said smoothly, shooting Evelyn a triumphant look. "We can reschedule our spa day. You should rest first." Her words landed like a perfectly timed counterstrike.

With a mocking smile at Evelyn, Natalie added, "Enjoy your spa treatment! That mineral pool might help wash away that cheap perfume you're drowning in."

Evelyn's nails dug crescent moons into her palms, but she maintained perfect composure for Liam's benefit. "Liam..." Her voice quivered with carefully calculated vulnerability.

"Have fun with your friend." Liam dismissed her curtly while leading Olivia away, though he softened the blow with, "We'll talk tonight."

As Liam guided her into the waiting car, Olivia's pulse quickened. This marked their first private moment in weeks.

Silence stretched between them as the cityscape blurred past Olivia's window, gradually transforming into unfamiliar upscale neighborhoods. The car finally stopped before an imposing neoclassical building.

Confused, Olivia turned questioning eyes toward Liam.

"Let's go." Liam opened her door, his voice icy. "If you're well enough for spas, you're certainly fit for a gala."

Inside, the space resembled an elite designer atelier more than a typical salon. Couture gowns cascaded from crystal displays while makeup artists worked their magic under golden lighting. The air hummed with activity and the mingled scents of luxury cosmetics.

Though familiar with such establishments, Olivia had never visited one with Liam. The overpowering floral notes nearly triggered a sneeze, which she barely suppressed.

"Enhance her natural features and conceal any remaining bruises," Liam instructed an approaching stylist.

"Of course! With bone structure like hers, any style would be perfection. It's simply a matter of preference," the stylist gushed genuinely.

This wasn't mere flattery. The stylist rarely encountered such effortless beauty - most clients required extensive makeup to achieve what Olivia possessed naturally. Her porcelain skin needed minimal enhancement, her features so perfectly proportioned they seemed sculpted by Renaissance masters. Even standing still, Olivia carried herself with the innate elegance of a prima ballerina.

"This way, please." The stylist gestured gracefully.

Olivia moved to follow but hesitated, casting one last uncertain glance at Liam. His expression held the satisfied gleam of someone appraising a valuable acquisition rather than showing actual affection.

The last time Olivia wore an exquisite gown for a public event - aside from her wedding - had been at Henry Winslow's birthday gala during her teens. Back then, Olivia wasn't just Liam's cherished companion.

She'd been the most favored adopted daughter of the Blackwood family. Guests had flocked to compliment her, calling her blessed. No one would have dared call her mute.

Tragically, that gala marked Olivia's final public appearance. After their marriage, Liam had kept her carefully sequestered.

"Miss, which gown speaks to you?" The stylist's question pulled Olivia from her memories.

Before her stretched racks of breathtaking couture. Each creation seemed more magnificent than the last, but Olivia dared not linger, fearing Liam's impatience. She quickly selected an ice-blue gown - the same hue she'd worn to that fateful gala years ago.

"Excellent choice! This features an open back design. Shall we style your hair up?" the stylist suggested.

Only then did Olivia notice the daring cutout. She shook her head vehemently, preferring her hair down.

"Of course. If you prefer subtlety, that works beautifully," the stylist assured, guiding Olivia to the dressing room.

Once transformed, Olivia barely recognized the vision in the mirror. The stylist had accentuated her features to ethereal perfection. For a breathless moment, Olivia marveled at her reflection - she'd forgotten she could look this radiant.

"Stunning." Liam's voice shattered the moment.

Olivia startled, realizing Liam had materialized behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror's reflection, and against her better judgment, hope flickered in Olivia's chest.

Liam's gaze swept over her with clinical appreciation, like a collector examining a rare porcelain doll. His admiration held no warmth.

The familiar ache of disappointment settled in Olivia's chest. Still, compelled by fragile hope, she signed hesitantly: "Am I just...arm candy tonight?"

Liam's chuckle carried cruel amusement. "What else could you possibly be?"

Olivia longed to say she wanted to stand beside him as his wife, to support his ambitions. But her ruined voice condemned her to silence. She could never be the society wife he needed.

Head bowed in resignation, Olivia asked nothing more.

Soon after, Liam escorted her to the gala. The ballroom glittered with crystal and candlelight, every detail screaming opulence. As the guest of honor, Liam naturally drew all eyes - but within moments, the crowd's attention shifted entirely to Olivia.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"She's exquisite..."

"Is that Mr. Blackwood's woman? Some European starlet?"

"I've never seen her before - perhaps that mysterious heiress from Montecarlo?"

Among the crowd, Evelyn - having rushed to the gala upon hearing of Liam's attendance - stood frozen in shock. Her face paled as she registered Olivia standing proudly beside Liam, looking every inch the aristocratic wife Evelyn had dreamed of becoming.