Chapter 59

Olivia's fingers trembled slightly as Liam's piercing gaze demanded answers. The memory flashed before her eyes - kneeling on the cold marble floor of the Blackwood mansion, scrubbing until her knuckles bled, when Margaret "accidentally" crushed her fingers under her designer heel. That was merely one drop in an ocean of humiliations.

She used to believe compliance would earn Margaret's approval. The painful truth revealed itself soon enough - her meekness only made her a more convenient target.

Rumors whispered how Catherine, when she first married into the family, commanded respect through sheer force of personality. Even Margaret tread carefully around her. Unlike Catherine who avoided confrontation, Olivia's quiet nature painted a bullseye on her back.

But what could Liam truly accomplish if she confessed? Would he challenge his own mother for her sake? The bitter reality settled in her chest - no blood bond would shatter over someone like her.

After a weighted silence, Olivia forced a dismissive wave, mouthing 'It's nothing' with practiced ease.

Liam's eyes narrowed but he let the matter drop.

The next morning found Liam inspecting a construction site, having instructed Olivia not to bother with lunch. Alone in the penthouse, she awaited Catherine's promised visit.

The doorbell chimed at precisely ten. To Olivia's dismay, Margaret swept in alongside Catherine, her Chanel sunglasses perched arrogantly on her nose. "Olivia darling," Margaret drawled, "we're updating your wardrobe today. Can't have you embarrassing the Blackwoods, can we?"

"Margaret, Olivia knows her place remarkably well," Catherine added with a venomous smile. "She'd never dream of refusing you."

Their tag-team bullying was nothing new. Olivia grabbed her purse and followed silently. The luxury mall's gleaming floors reflected her growing pile of shopping bags - a human pack mule for their retail therapy.

Her knees, still tender from yesterday's punishment, screamed with each step. Then Liam's words echoed: You're mute, not powerless.

When Margaret dumped another armload of bags at her feet outside Prada, something snapped.

The bags hit the marble with a satisfying thud. Olivia met Margaret's shocked gaze with steady defiance.

"How dare you!" Margaret's manicured finger jabbed the air. "Pick those up this instant!"

Olivia turned on her heel and strode toward the exit. Theodore would fetch her. No more torture.

"Stop right there!" Margaret's stilettos clicked furiously behind her. Just as bony fingers grazed Olivia's arm, a whirlwind in pink tulle collided with Margaret, sending frozen matcha latte cascading down her Valentino dress.

"Ah! You imbecile!" Margaret shrieked, now dripping green.

"Watch where you're going, hag!" The pink-clad woman fired back before Margaret could speak.

Catherine rushed to Margaret's defense. "That dress costs more than your car! Apologize now!"

Olivia paused, mesmerized by the unfolding drama. The pink tornado wasn't backing down.

"Those cataracts must be advanced if you can't see where you're walking!" The woman sneered. "Or are you just some lonely crone whose kids abandoned you? And you-" she turned to Catherine, "that resting witch face explains why you're still childless at forty!"

Margaret and Catherine turned puce with rage.

"Penelope?" A new voice cut through the tension. Evelyn Hartley stood frozen, clutching a Birkin. "What are you doing here?"

Penelope Adler's bravado evaporated. "E-Evelyn-"

"Running from creditors again?" Evelyn's smile didn't reach her eyes. "While your boutique collapses under debt?"

"Please, not here-" Penelope whimpered.

Evelyn turned to the seething Margaret. "My apologies for her behavior. Shall I make her beg on her knees?"