Chapter 17
I opened the message.
Ms. Frost, I will accompany Mr. Jones to meet a client at the Hilton on Friday. You might want to have the suit sent over.
I stared at the screen, my mind whirling.
Evan wanted to see me again?
At a secluded hotel, no less—where a crime could go unnoticed.
What was he planning?
I decided not to overthink it. It wasn’t fear—it was simply exhaustion. I didn’t want to get tangled in something complicated.
So, I ignored the message.
Down in the parking garage, Gary sighed and put his phone away.
He knew he shouldn’t meddle, but he also sensed his boss was trying to give Ms. Frost a chance.
And from what he heard, she had even applied for the job.
It was all just a misunderstanding.
That was why he had sent the message—yet, Olivia didn’t reply.
Gary sighed again. She’s not a pushover.
The Bentley pulled out of the complex, passing a familiar Ferrari.
Julian sat inside his Ferrari, parked along the roadside, his patience wearing thin.
Olivia hadn’t answered his calls. Hadn’t responded to his texts.
His anger simmered.
Just then, a message arrived.
The resident list for Ocean Rose Residences.
His frown deepened as he scanned it. Olivia’s name wasn’t there.
Instead, the penthouse belonged to…
Evan Jones.
Julian’s grip on his phone tightened.
The Jones family was notoriously private. Their members rarely appeared publicly. Julian had only seen Evan a handful of times, once at a gala when he was sixteen.
Even then, Evan had seemed distant and cold—like a jade statue.
Now, Julian pieced things together.
So, Olivia had secretly bought a home here?
Evan Jones lived here too.
Coincidence? Or something more?
The memory of the golf course surfaced.
Julian’s jaw clenched.
At that moment, headlights flashed. A familiar car slowed, then abruptly braked.
I spotted Julian immediately.
A cigarette dangled from his fingers, white smoke curling around his furrowed brow.
He looked livid.
My thoughts raced.
Then, I made my move.
I parked, strode over, and yanked open his passenger door. Sliding in, I shut it with a click.
“Why are you here?” My voice sliced through the leather-scented air. “Are you following me?”
Julian exhaled slowly, then lifted his phone off the dashboard.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto my lap.
I glanced down. The screen glowed—Ocean Rose Residences ownership registry.
“Explain this.”
I returned the phone, unfazed. “I worked for years. Paid the down payment with my own savings. Broke any laws?”
His gaze sharpened. “Olivia, don’t play games. Why did you buy the house? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it was necessary.” My voice was steady. “I wanted something of my own. In my name. Is that a problem?”
The Shaws had always accused me of being after Julian’s money. His mother forced me to sign a prenup.
Julian froze, then barked out a sharp, humorless laugh.
“Haven’t I been generous all these years? That Bulgari necklace I gave you alone could buy a penthouse!”
I didn’t answer.
His frustration boiled over. He yanked out his wallet, flipping it open.
One by one, platinum cards rained onto my lap.
The snap of each card against the leather seat punctuated his words:
“Like buying apartments?” Snap.
“Buy ten.” Snap.
“A hundred.” Snap.
“Put your name on every deed.” Snap.
I let out a soft laugh. “You’re so generous.”
Maybe I should accept his betrayal for the money.
Maybe I should become numb—just a machine that made and spent wealth.
It wouldn’t be the worst life.
But I couldn’t live like that.
I picked up the wallet and returned it to him. “I’ll ask you for money when I need it.”
As I reached for the cards, Julian suddenly grabbed my hand.
His grip was firm.
His voice low.
“Don’t you trust me anymore?”
The question hung between us.
For a fleeting second, I saw something raw in his eyes.
Desperation? Regret?
I smiled faintly. “Doesn’t matter.”
Then, I pulled my hand away.
My phone rang.
I stiffened.
Julian caught it immediately, his eyes narrowing. “Ignored my calls—ignoring others too?”
I took it out cautiously.
Relief flooded me. Seraphine.
Julian relaxed. “Answer it.”
I smirked. His mother was probably worried I’d change my mind about the divorce.
I answered. “I’m with your son. Should I put him on?”
There was a pause. Then, Seraphine said, “No need. I’m calling to ask if you still want that bag you saw earlier.”
I played along. “Yes. I’ve sent all my bags for maintenance. I need a new one.”
“Well, come and get it.”
“Thank you.”
The conversation ended abruptly.
Julian eyed me suspiciously. “Since when were you and my mother so close?”
I shrugged. “Would you prefer I fight with her?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. This woman… always twisting words.
Yet, strangely, his anger lessened.
He had watched Olivia’s reaction when he showed her the resident list.
She hadn’t reacted to Evan’s name.
She only cared about his discovery of her house purchase.
So it really was just a coincidence.
Just a little rebellion. A small tantrum.
Nothing he couldn’t tolerate.
“I’ll drive you home.” He started the engine.
“But my car—”
“I’ll have someone get it.”
I reached for the door handle, but it was locked.
Julian had already pulled onto the road.
I sighed. Whatever.
For the next few days, I remained cautious. I stayed home, waiting for Julian’s reaction to the divorce.
I knew his pattern.
First, rage.
Then, logic.
By the time I left for my trip, he’d have cooled off.
And if nothing unexpected happened, he’d agree.
After all, Rita would be pressuring him for commitment.
My quiet departure would be ideal.
“One more thing,” Sherry warned me over the phone. “Be careful of your mother-in-law. She’s been up to something lately.”
“I’m not worried.” My voice was calm. “Until I get the divorce certificate, she won’t do anything. She’s afraid I’ll change my mind.”
Seraphine was likely already spreading rumors—whispering that Julian was leaving me for the Crowe family.
That was fine.
I let them play their games.
Friday afternoon, I booked my flight to Iceland.
Then, Seraphine called again.
I knew she had something to say.
But I didn’t reach out first.
I answered, my tone light. “Hello, Mrs. Shaw.”
“Let’s meet to finalize the agreement.”
“Just have your lawyer meet with mine.”
“Olivia Frost.” Her tone was sharp. “You raised your demand from 100 million to 150 million—yet you refuse to finalize the agreement? You will come in person. Today.”
I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “And where would you like to meet?”
“The Hilton.” Her voice was firm. “Less foot traffic. Reduces visibility risks.”
The Hilton.
I recalled Gary’s message.
Evan was meeting a client there today.
My lips curled.
What a coincidence.
