Chapter 63

Olivia clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She knew pushing Liam further would only make things worse. With measured movements, she repeated her earlier question in sign language. "Don't you want to marry Evelyn? Why reject my attempts to step aside? Doesn't she want this wedding?"

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Liam's expression remained unreadable, the earlier storm in his eyes having dissipated.

After what felt like an eternity, Liam finally spoke. "Leave. We'll discuss the divorce later."

Olivia hadn't expected immediate agreement. She simply nodded, gesturing toward the cooling meal before turning away. The door clicked shut behind her with finality.

That night, the Blackwood mansion remained empty of its master.

Olivia's mind conjured images of Liam at Evelyn's penthouse. Were they planning their wedding date? Or was something more complicated unfolding?

Her feet carried her to the antique vanity. With trembling fingers, she opened the hidden compartment, revealing the shattered remains of Henry's teapot.

The porcelain fragments blurred as tears welled up. Memories of Henry's laughter, her carefree childhood, and abandoned dreams crashed over her. Why hadn't she repaired this while Henry still breathed? Maybe it could have brought him some comfort in those final days.

Her phone buzzed against the mahogany surface. Marcus's text glowed on the screen: "Checking in. Everything alright at home? No pressure about returning to the studio."

A ghost of a smile touched Olivia's lips. She missed Thornton Antiquities desperately - the scent of wood polish, the weight of tools in her hands, the satisfaction of restoring history.

Her reply was brief: "Sorting things here. Will visit soon."

Marcus responded instantly: "Want your tools? I'm heading out tomorrow - could drop them by."

Olivia's fingers flew across the screen. She needed those tools. Henry's teapot couldn't wait any longer.

After exchanging addresses and gratitude, Marcus promised to call before arriving. Olivia set the phone down, assuming this was simple professional courtesy.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Morning light revealed the truth. Marcus, scion of the influential Whitmores, always knew society's secrets before they broke. The trending headlines confirmed it: "Blackwood Heir's Shocking Diagnosis - End of an Empire?"

Olivia's stomach dropped. Blackwood Enterprises stock plummeted at opening bell.

The articles were vicious. They claimed Liam suffered the same degenerative brain condition that had claimed previous Blackwood patriarchs within three years. Worse, they emphasized his lack of heirs, implying the family line would end with him.

Marcus had known. His texts took on new meaning.

But Olivia's focus shifted from Marcus's foresight to the leak itself. Who else knew? She'd told no one. Surely Ryan Carter kept professional confidences. Evelyn and Margaret loved Liam - they'd never hurt him like this.

Unless... Had Olivia slipped somehow? She'd mentioned family illness before. Could someone have connected dots that didn't exist?

Blackwood Enterprises moved with characteristic efficiency. Within hours, they announced a press conference where Liam would personally debunk the rumors and pursue legal action.

The online frenzy diminished, some articles disappearing entirely. But the damage lingered.

Margaret Winslow's arrival shattered the uneasy calm. "Olivia!" Her shriek echoed through the foyer. "You vile little snake! Did you leak my son's condition? I know it was you!"

Olivia emerged from her room, back straight.

Where Liam might entertain doubt, Margaret embraced certainty. She lunged, manicured claws outstretched, only to be intercepted by the butler. "Madam, please—"

"Don't 'madam' me! This family's suffered enough because of her!" Margaret's chest heaved. "A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough!"

The butler, loyal to the Blackwood household rather than Margaret, defended gently: "She's cared for Mr. Blackwood diligently. Carried his meals daily. It's no small task."

Margaret collapsed onto a settee, temporarily subdued.

The doorbell's chime sliced through the tension.

Olivia's stomach dropped. Marcus. She moved to intercept, but too late.

The butler admitted Marcus, toolbox in hand. "Missed my text?" He smiled. "Brought your gear."

Margaret sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. "Another man? First Alexander Hayes, now this? Have you no shame, Olivia?"

Her voice rose to a shriek that rattled the chandeliers.