Chapter 398

Olivia Sinclair raised her chin, her emerald eyes flashing with disbelief. This charade had gone far enough. He didn't need to say those words, yet she refused to let it unsettle her.

After skillfully handling the swarm of reporters, Olivia gracefully disentangled herself from Liam Blackwood's embrace.

As she reached the sleek black car and slid into the leather seat, ready to depart, her breath caught when Liam shamelessly followed and settled beside her. "What are you doing?" she demanded, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "The performance is over."

Liam blinked those infuriatingly innocent blue eyes. "We must maintain appearances, darling. There could still be paparazzi watching." He adjusted his cufflinks with practiced ease. "Besides, I haven't seen our precious Isabelle in weeks." A shadow crossed his chiseled features.

Olivia's lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. She couldn't deny him this. Not when Isabelle needed her father.

The ache in her daughter's eyes whenever classmates spoke of their dads still haunted Olivia's dreams.

Every child deserved love from both parents - this truth burned in Olivia's heart.

Through Olivia's unwavering devotion, Isabelle had never felt lacking... until recently.

Lately, Olivia had noticed Isabelle's quiet sadness during bedtime stories. "Fine," she conceded, her voice glacial. "But heed my warning. If you hurt her - if you so much as make her feel unwanted - you'll never see her again. She's my everything. Understood?"

Her gaze could have frozen molten lava.

Liam's throat worked as he took in this transformed version of the timid girl he'd once known. The girl who'd followed him like a shadow, enduring cruelty without complaint.

"I understand," he said gravely, offering no empty promises. Actions would speak for him now.

Isabelle was still at kindergarten when they arrived.

Olivia checked her diamond-encrusted watch - class wouldn't end for hours. They'd wait by the wrought-iron gates.

Two hours later, the final bell chimed. Children streamed out like colorful confetti, yet Isabelle remained missing.

Olivia's pulse skyrocketed. She rushed inside, heels clicking urgently against polished floors. The teacher looked up, startled, from organizing crayons. "You're Isabelle's mother?"

Olivia's manicured nails dug into her palms. "Has someone taken her pretending to be me?"

The teacher paled, scrambling for records. Her hands trembled as she compared documents. The realization struck like lightning - this elegant woman was indeed Isabelle's mother.

Horror dawned on the teacher's face. "An older gentleman always collects her! Today, a sophisticated woman came, claiming to be you. Isabelle went with her willingly! She seemed so convincing!"

The blood drained from Olivia's face.

Liam's expression turned murderous.

Somewhere in the city, a little girl with golden curls clutched a stranger's hand, utterly unaware of the storm about to break.