"Olivia! You poor thing, you look terrible," she cooed, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Thank you so much for the bone marrow donation. The healer said your cells are already helping our baby develop stronger. You've been such a blessing to our little family!"
She turned to Alexander with pleading eyes. "Darling, shouldn't we give Olivia a ride home? It's the least we can do after her sacrifice."
Alexander brushed a strand of hair from her face with tender care. "Whatever makes you happy, my love."
Since I needed to retrieve my remaining possessions from the mansion anyway, I accepted Victoria's false kindness with a silent nod.
Inside Alexander's custom Bentley, Victoria suddenly gasped dramatically.
"Oh! What's this?"
She reached between the leather seats and pulled out a small velvet box.
"Alexander," she exclaimed with surprise. "You didn't mention buying me another gift!"
Opening the box revealed a charm bracelet—identical to the one I'd received from my mother on my sixteenth birthday. The one that had mysteriously "disappeared" from my jewelry box last month.
"Oh, this must be a mistake," Victoria said, examining the inscription inside: To our beloved daughter, forever in our hearts.
She held it up with a mocking glint in her eyes. "Isn't this... yours, Olivia? How strange that Alexander would have it."
Alexander's jaw tightened before he smoothly replied, "I had it resized for you, darling. I thought you might appreciate having a family heirloom, considering your connection to our family now."
The bracelet—the last gift from my parents before they died dangled from Victoria's wrist as she admired it in the sunlight.
"It's perfect," she cooed. "Practically made for me."
Victoria pressed the charm bracelet to her heart, batting her eyelashes innocently at Alexander.
"You always know exactly what I need," she cooed, leaning in to kiss him while her eyes remained fixed on me, savoring my reaction.
Alexander smiled playing along with her charade yet I caught the way his gaze kept darting to my face, searching for signs of jealousy or hurt.
But when he saw that I wasn't upset at all—just absentmindedly sketching in the small journal I always carried, something darkened in his expression.
"Olivia," he said sharply, "you've been drawing in that damn book since we left the hospital."