Chapter 2 Where Am I?
Olivia opened her eyes to see a crystal chandelier shimmering above her, its delicate light reflecting off the polished marble floor. It was beautiful, yet unfamiliar.
The dull throbbing in her head hadn't subsided. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around the room with confusion clouding her features.
Strangely, though she had no memory of this place, the elegant furnishings and decor matched her taste perfectly. The cream-colored walls, the minimalist art pieces, the plush furniture—all seemed to speak to her aesthetic sensibilities.
Had someone brought her here after she lost consciousness?
As she pondered this, a soft knock interrupted her thoughts, followed by the door opening.
A man in an impeccably tailored suit entered the room. Though his lips curved into a polite smile, his voice carried unmistakable disdain. "Ms. Harper, you're awake? It's getting late. You should leave now."
"I'm sorry," Olivia stared blankly for several seconds before forcing an awkward smile. "I wasn't feeling well earlier. Thank you for your help."
She pushed aside the duvet and stood, bending to look for her shoes.
Simon Ferguson's brow furrowed. He hadn't expected the usually demanding Olivia to be so humble today. His tone softened slightly. "No need for thanks, Ms. Harper. Mr. Blake brought you here. He's instructed me to have you driven home once you awakened."
Alexander Blake had repeatedly lowered his standards for her, offering unconditional help time and again.
Remembering those concerned eyes and the familiar scent of pine cologne, Olivia couldn't help but ask, "Could I thank him in person before leaving?"
"The driver is already waiting." Simon's frown returned, his attitude clear.
Olivia pressed her lips together and didn't insist. "I can find my own way back."
"Very well then," Simon replied with evident relief before turning to leave.
When silence returned to the room, Olivia finally took a deep breath. She pulled out her phone and frowned as she scrolled through her contacts list, finally calling the person labeled as her best friend. The voice on the other end listened to her situation and immediately promised to come pick her up.
While waiting, Olivia tried to search her memory. Had she really been such a terrible person before? Why did everyone seem to dislike her?
Recalling the assistant's barely concealed contempt, Olivia felt a twinge in her heart.
This Mr. Blake probably disliked her too. An employee's behavior often reflected their employer's attitude.
By the time the pain in her temple had subsided enough for her to move, Olivia had composed herself. When she emerged from the room, her expression was calm and collected.
"Ms. Harper." By coincidence, she ran into a middle-aged woman bringing in a tray of food.
"Hello." Olivia smiled politely.
The bandage on her forehead and the dry clothes she now wore suggested this woman had helped care for her while she was unconscious.
"Could I have Mr. Blake's contact information? I'd like to thank him for saving me," she asked softly and politely.
The housekeeper looked surprised but complied with her request.
"Thank you."
"Take care, Ms. Harper."
Elodie Thompson remained rooted to the spot, watching in bewilderment as Olivia left. "Has she had a personality transplant?" she muttered to herself.
Olivia had always been a decent young lady in Elodie's eyes, but she'd never shown much civility toward Alexander or his staff. Her reactions ranged from cold dismissal to outright hostility. Yet today she'd been perfectly cordial, even asking for Alexander's contact information?
Perhaps the head injury had affected her memory?
Considering the bandage on Olivia's head and her uncharacteristic behavior, Elodie grew increasingly convinced of her theory. She hurried to the study to share her suspicions with Alexander.
"Amnesia?" Alexander's hand, holding an expensive fountain pen, froze mid-signature. His expression instantly turned grave.
"I think so!" Elodie carefully recalled Olivia's behavior since waking. "Ms. Harper's behavior was so strange today. You two have known each other for years—even if she were pretending not to know you out of spite, she wouldn't have forgotten your contact information or been so polite about thanking you."
In all their years of acquaintance, Olivia had cried, screamed, physically lashed out, and even threatened self-harm—but she had never calmly severed their connection like this.
It wasn't her style.
"Where is she now?" Alexander asked.
"She left, but she didn't take your driver. She can't have gone far."
Alexander immediately set aside his work and maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door.
Had she really lost her memory?
His brow furrowed deeper as two conflicting thoughts battled in his mind. He worried that without her memories, Olivia would be even more vulnerable to her family's machinations and manipulations. Yet he also hoped that perhaps she had forgotten her entanglement with James and their bitter history. Maybe they truly had a chance to start over.
By the time he reached the entrance, Olivia was already climbing into the passenger seat of a white sedan that quickly drove away.
Alexander only caught a glimpse of the driver—Olivia's supposed best friend, Sophie Morrison.
So, not amnesia after all.
She was deceiving him again.
The wind rushed past, ruffling Alexander's hair across his forehead and concealing the intense emotions in his eyes.
"What? Me?"
A shocked cry echoed inside the car as Olivia pointed at herself, looking at Sophie in disbelief.
"You're saying that I spent hundreds of thousands on James's birthday party, bought him a riverside mansion, baked him a cake, and then got thrown out of the celebration just because I refused to let Isabella join? And that made him angry?"
Sophie glanced at her and nodded firmly. "Exactly."
"Over the years, you've given him gifts worth over a hundred million dollars. I can't recall him ever giving you anything significant in return," Sophie said matter-of-factly.
"And there was that time he called you at midnight. You drove for more than thirty minutes with a 102-degree fever just because his credit card hit its limit and he needed cash."
"Earlier this year, you supported his business venture by exchanging some of your mother's property holdings—the ones your father was managing for you—for that collaboration in Bellevue. Then you just gave it to him, no strings attached."
"Two years ago, your stepsister pretended to have terrible menstrual cramps. He was so concerned about her that he ordered you to run errands in her place. You had a sprained ankle but went anyway. And when you graduated college—"
"Stop, stop, stop!" As she cradled her head in her hands, Olivia finally collapsed, utterly overwhelmed by the weight of these shocking revelations.
What had happened to her before the memory loss? Even if she loved someone deeply, how could she have been so pathetically desperate? This wasn't love—it was servitude!
She pressed her fingers against her temples.
"Was I under some kind of spell?" she whispered incredulously.
Impossible. That couldn't have been her.
"Is that all? I bet you haven't checked your text messages yet," Sophie said with a mischievous smile, swiping through her own phone before showing Olivia her message history.