Chapter 345

Donovan shook his head firmly. "This belonged to Alistair. Just keep it with you. If you ever need funds, sell it. It's valued at least in the hundreds of millions. It'll support you through any hardship."

Olivia's lips curved in disbelief. "Are you serious? Suggesting I pawn this right in front of Alistair?"

Donovan waved his hand dismissively. "He's got vaults full of treasures. This means nothing to him. Just take good care of him."

He then pressed a stack of black credit cards from elite banks and a set of penthouse keys into her palm.

Olivia opened her mouth to refuse when Donovan's expression darkened, his voice turning glacial. "If you decline, I'll ensure you never leave Westhaven."

She didn't doubt his power for a second.

With a weary sigh, Donovan's tone softened. "As your cousin, I've failed you. My life's consumed by obligations, leaving little to give. If you reject this, I'll never forgive myself."

A sudden tightness gripped Olivia's chest, emotions swelling like a tidal wave. The urge to cry became overwhelming.

Memories surfaced of her early days with the Winslow family, when Henry was still alive and she was married to Liam. Those rare moments of familial warmth now seemed like fragments of a fading dream.

Later, kind souls had entered her orbit - the warmth from the Whitmores and Bennetts. Gregory's kindness hadn't faded from memory either.

Olivia cherished these gestures profoundly. Perhaps because she'd spent most of her life as the Winslows' adopted daughter, constantly scrutinized, she'd never permitted herself to depend on anyone.

Before she realized, hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

Donovan noticed immediately, brushing them away with his thumb. "Hey now, none of that. My fault - shouldn't have gotten sentimental. Everything's arranged. Take my private jet tomorrow. Just rest now, alright?"

Olivia sniffed, forcing a small smile. "Alright."

After much-needed recuperation, Olivia returned home with Isabelle and Alistair.

True to his word, Donovan had orchestrated every detail flawlessly.

With Olivia's leg still healing, she remained wheelchair-bound.

Upon landing, they rested at the penthouse, but inactivity chafed at Olivia. She insisted on visiting Crestwood's auction house, eager to inspect her newest acquisition.

Despite its recent opening, the Crestwood auction house thrived. The manager reported every event sold out completely.

To meet demand, he'd hired additional staff and promised to introduce them later.

Olivia found the notion tedious and declined. She trusted her managers implicitly - each carefully selected for their expertise. Micromanaging hires wasn't her style.