Chapter 57

Margaret Winslow yanked Olivia Sinclair toward her luxury sedan with brutal force, shoving her into the leather seat without care. Olivia could have resisted—every muscle in her body tensed for it—but she didn't. She assumed Theodore, the driver Liam Blackwood had assigned, must have seen everything from his parked car nearby. He'd likely drive off, powerless to intervene. Olivia stayed silent, her thoughts swirling like storm clouds.

Within minutes, they arrived at the Winslow estate. Margaret tapped her manicured nails against the window until a servant rushed to open her door. Stepping out, she lifted her chin with regal disdain, jabbing a finger toward Olivia. "Drag her to the grand hall! Make her kneel on the marble—and she stays there until I say otherwise!"

This mansion held too many memories of Olivia's suffering. Whether it was failing to brew Liam's tea perfectly or dusting the antique vases inadequately, Margaret always found excuses to punish her.

Now alone in the cavernous hall, Olivia knelt on the icy marble, the cold seeping through her thin dress. Margaret had ordered every cushion removed, ensuring the hard surface bit into her knees. Even hours later, the ache would linger like a ghost.

As twilight painted the windows gold, Olivia shifted slightly—just as the doors swung open. "What do you think you're doing?" Margaret's voice cracked like a whip. "Pretending to suffer for sympathy?"

Olivia shook her head mutely, but Margaret snapped her fingers at a maid. "Fetch my cane. This ungrateful wretch needs a reminder of her place." Ice flooded Olivia's veins. Only once in five years had Margaret resorted to physical violence—a beating so savage Olivia still woke gasping from nightmares of it.

The cane appeared, its polished surface gleaming. Margaret raised it high—but a hand caught her wrist mid-swing. The cane clattered to the floor, snapping in two.

Olivia looked up to see Liam standing there, his grip vise-like around his mother's arm. "Explain yourself," he demanded, voice low with fury.

"She was flirting with Alexander Hayes right in front of me!" Margaret spat. "Disgraceful behavior deserves discipline!"

Olivia's stomach dropped. Liam's trust in her had always been fragile. But then he said, "Alexander was discussing a job offer from Whitmore Holdings. Don't fabricate lies about Olivia."

Her eyes widened. How did he know? She'd never mentioned the offer, but of course Liam had ways of uncovering secrets. Theodore must have reported Alexander's visit.

"Are you planning to stand?" Liam's gaze burned into her.

Olivia staggered upright, her legs numb from hours on stone. She swayed—and Liam caught her, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist.

"Pathetic theatrics," Margaret sneered. "She's never this frail when you're not watching!"

"Has this happened before?" Liam's question was lethally quiet.

Margaret stiffened. "How else will she learn respect?"

Seeing Liam's darkening expression, she hastily changed tactics. "You're home early. Stay for dinner."

Liam ignored her, his attention fixed on Olivia's pale face. "Can you walk?" he murmured. "Or shall I carry you?"

Olivia shook her head frantically. She'd endured Margaret's cruelty silently for years to avoid causing strife between mother and son. If Liam carried her now, it would only escalate tensions.

Yet he swept her into his arms anyway, striding past gawking servants into the main parlor. Olivia buried her flaming cheeks against his chest. They'd never been this intimate in front of his family before. Margaret's face turned thunderous.

"Enough of this childish display," she hissed. "Sit down and eat like adults."

"But she was ill here last time, and I wasn't home to care for her," Liam countered, recalling a different grievance. He'd been buried in critical negotiations at Blackwood Enterprises for weeks back then, only learning later of Olivia's sickness.

Margaret's expression tightened dangerously. It hadn't been just any illness—it was when Olivia had been pregnant, and Margaret had forced the termination. A secret Liam still didn't know.

Olivia felt the unspoken threat in Margaret's glare as Liam carried her to the dining room, his protective embrace sparking both comfort and terror. The storm between mother and son was far from over.