Olivia's POV
Immediately the elevator doors opened to the reception area, and I stepped into the hallway, a new panic gripped me. Patricia. She would be waiting for me, ready to escort me out with my termination letter. Accepting that letter meant accepting my faith, and accepting my faith meant letting Maxwell step all over me simply because he couldn't handle his girlfriend.
Douchebag!!
I wouldn't let her see me. Not when I finally had hope that this nightmare might end.
I advanced toward the hallway, keeping my head down and walking quickly past the reception desk where Patricia sat, chatting with a staff. The security guard barely glanced at me as I pushed through the doors and stepped onto the street.
The cool air hit my face, and I realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled slowly, looking around at the city street. People hurried past me, everyone with somewhere to go, someone to be. Everyone except me.
I stood there for a moment, completely lost. I couldn't go home - Mom was there, probably planning my outfit for tomorrow's blind date. I couldn't go back to the office. I couldn't even be myself in public while wearing Oliver's face.
I reached for my phone in my pocket, and dialed Kira's number immediately.
"Olivia?" She answered on the second ring. "Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be working right now?"
"Kira," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "I need to see you now, please. I will text you the address of where to meet me."
"Of course, but what's wrong? You sound..."
"I'll explain when you get here," I interrupted. "Just... please come. I need you."
"I'm on my way. Give me twenty minutes."
I hung up, and quickly sent her the address of a nearby cafe, then started walking there, my bag heavy on my shoulders. The streets were crowded, and I felt invisible among all these people living their normal lives. No one looked twice at the young man in the rumpled suit walking aimlessly through downtown.
The cafe was a little scanty when I arrived. I chose a corner table, away from the windows, and ordered a coffee I didn't want. My hands shook slightly as I wrapped them around the warm mug, trying to ground myself in something real.
Twenty minutes felt like hours, but finally, Kira burst through the door, her expression frantic. She scanned the room until she spotted me, then hurried over.
"Olivia?" she said, sliding into the seat across from me. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at work? And why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
I took a shaky breath and looked directly into her eyes. "Max fired me."
Kira blinked. Once. Twice. Her mouth opened, then closed. For a full minute, she just stared at me in complete silence, as if my words were in a foreign language she couldn't understand.
"What?" she finally whispered.
"He fired me," I repeated, my voice stronger now. "This morning. I was late because of the whole thing with my mom, and he fired me on the spot."
The words tumbled out as I explained everything - everything about my quick morning transformation, about arriving forty-five minutes late to find Alex in Maxwell's office, and then the cold, brutal dismissal.
"He didn't even let me explain," I finished, my voice breaking. "He just... he looked at me like I was nothing and told me to get out."
By the time I finished talking, Kira was standing up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her face was flushed with anger, and her hands were clenched into fists.
"That's it," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "I'm going to kill him."
"Kira, no..."
"I'm going to march into that fancy office of his and tell him exactly what I think of him," she continued, grabbing her purse. "No one treats my best friend like that. No one."
I jumped up and grabbed her arm. "Kira, stop! You can't!"
"No!" she said, trying to shake me off. "I don't care how rich or powerful he thinks he is. I'm going to..."
"Damien is going to help me," I said quickly, tightening my grip on her arm. "Maxwell's younger brother. He promised to talk to him over the weekend. I might get my job back Monday."
Kira stopped struggling, but her eyes were still blazing. "His brother?"
"Yes, Damien Wellington. He's the one who actually hired me, and he said Max was just having a bad day because his girlfriend canceled her trip."
Kira slowly sat back down, but her posture remained tense. "So you might not be fired?"
"I might not be," I said, sitting down across from her. "But I won't know until Monday."
Kira ran her hands through her hair, and I could see her trying to calm herself down. "Olivia, you can't lose this job."
"I know..."
"No, you don't understand," she interrupted, her voice becoming more urgent. "Rent is due in two weeks. Two weeks. And my online stuff... it's not going as well as I thought it would. I haven't made any real money yet."
I felt a chill run down my spine. "What do you mean?"
"I mean we're in trouble," Kira said, leaning forward. "If you don't have that job come Monday, we're screwed. We'll be sleeping in the gutters soon. Or worse..." She shuddered. "You'll have to move back in with your parents."
The thought of living with my parents again, of having to explain my failed career and non-existent love life, made me feel sick. "It won't come to that."
"I'm trying to make this online thing work, but it's not as easy as I thought. Maybe I should just give up and look for a real job."
"You should," I said without thinking. "Maybe if you stopped with the online scams and actually tried to find legitimate work..."
"Scams?" Kira's eyes flashed with hurt. "They're not scams, Olivia. I'm trying to build something here. You know I'm not as lucky as you when it comes to securing physical jobs."
"Yet, look where that landed me." I protested weakly.
"You know what I mean," Kira said, her voice softer now. "You have a law degree. You have skills that people want. Some of us have to be more creative."
I sighed, "You're right. I didn't mean..."
"Forget it," Kira said, waving her hand. "The point is, you need to keep that job. We both need you to keep that job."
I nodded. "You know what?" I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe you should apply to Wellington and Sons. If you can learn to disguise yourself as a man, we could be colleagues."
I meant it as a joke, but Kira's expression grew thoughtful. "Actually... that's not a terrible idea."
"Kira, I was kidding."
"I'm not," she said, her eyes brightening. "Think about it. You've proven it can be done. And if you get fired anyway, at least one of us would still have a job there."
I stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or be terrified. "You're not serious."
"I'm completely serious," she said. "I could do it. I'm taller than you, my voice is already deeper. It might actually be easier for me."
"Kira..."
"We'll talk about it later," she said, clearly not ready to drop the subject. "But right now, I'm more curious about something else. How does Maxwell Wellington go from being Dr. Heart to CEO of a law firm? Is he living a double life?"
I had been wondering the same thing. "I don't know. It's so weird, right? Like, do other people at the firm know about his therapy practice? Can you imagine if someone found out their CEO was moonlighting as a love doctor?"
"It's definitely not normal," Kira agreed. "But then again, you're not exactly in a position to approach him about it."
She had a point. Knowing about his other life, might've given me a little power over him, but I couldn't do that while pretending to be a man working at his company. I'll blow my own cover instantly.
"So what are you going to do for the rest of the day?" Kira asked, checking her phone. "You can't go home with your mom there."
"I'll figure something out," I said, though I had no idea what that something would be.
"I wish I could hang out with you, but I have three video calls this afternoon," Kira said apologetically. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"
"I'll be fine," I assured her, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself.
Kira stood up and gave me a tight hug. "Everything's going to work out, Olivia. Damien will talk to his brother, you'll get your job back, and this whole nightmare will be over."
"I hope you're right," I said, hugging her back.
"I am right," she said firmly. "I have to be."
*******
After Kira left, I sat alone in the cafe for a while, holding my now cold coffee and trying to figure out what to do with myself. The day was still young and for the first time in days, I didn't have to be Oliver.
I could just be Olivia.
The thought was exciting. When was the last time I'd had a day to myself? When was the last time I'd done something just for fun, just because I wanted to?
I made a decision. I was going to enjoy this day, even if it was born from disaster. I was going to remind myself who Olivia really was underneath all the prosthetics and lies.
I went to the cafe's small bathroom and removed Oliver's disguise. I removed everything, from the prosthetics to the contouring makeup, and the chest binder. Then I let my hair fall freely down my back, and changed into the dress I'd worn that morning.
I looked into the mirror, noting how beautiful I looked. This was Olivia Hopton. The tall beautiful woman I know who could run any place if she wanted to. Who was confident and smart.
Today won't be the last time Maxwell Wellington would hear from me. I promised myself that.
I left the cafe and walked toward the movie theater a few blocks away. I bought a ticket to the first romantic comedy that was starting, not caring what it was about. I just wanted to sit in the dark and enjoy a good laugh.
The movie was really good, and I found myself laughing so hard, I forgot my worries.
After the movie, I walked to the nearby park. The afternoon sun was soothing, so I found a bench under a large tree. I sat there for a while, watching families with their children, couples walking hand in hand, joggers running round the pond.
It was actually therapeutic to watch other people going about their normal lives.
I must have dozed off on the bench because the next thing I knew, the sun was lower in the sky and the park was quieter. I checked my phone - it was almost 4 PM. I was getting hungry, but I didn't want to go home yet.
I remembered a small inn I usually see on my way to work. It was the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour to travelers who needed a quick rest. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean.
I hailed a cab and drove over there.
On getting there, the first thing I did was order a simple dinner. After helping myself to the delicious food, I paid for a room for two hours.
The clerk handed over the key. I climbed the stairs to the third floor and let myself into a small but comfortable room with a single bed and a window.
I lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and closed my eyes. For the first time in days, I felt free.
I fell asleep easily, and when I woke up, the room was darker, but I felt better and refreshed.
I checked my phone. 7:30 PM. Time to go home and face whatever waited for me there.
I gathered my things and checked out of the inn. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and I decided to walk home instead of using a cab.
The streets were less crowded now, filled with people heading to dinner or home from work.
I was almost home when I saw it - a small karaoke bar tucked between a dry cleaner and a convenience store. The neon sign glowed in the darkness, and it read, "Private Rooms Available."
I stopped walking and stared at the sign. When was the last time I'd done karaoke? When was the last time I'd sung anything other than in the shower?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed through the door.
Inside the building was dimly lit and smaller than I'd expected. A bored-looking teenager behind the counter looked up as I entered.
"Room for one?" he asked, not seeming to find anything unusual about a woman wanting to sing alone.
"Yes, please," I said. "Just for an hour."
He handed me a key and gestured toward a narrow hallway. "Room 3. The song catalog is on the table."
Room 3 was tiny but cozy, with a small couch, a coffee table, and a large screen on the wall. The lights were dim, with soft neon colors casting rays across the room.
I flipped through the song catalog, looking for something that matched my mood. I needed something emotional, something that would let me pour out all the frustration and sadness and fear that had been building up inside me.
Finally, I found the perfect song.
I picked up the microphone and tapped on the song. The music began, soft and haunting. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the melody.
I sang about being alone, about feeling like I wasn't good enough, about dreams that seemed impossible to reach. I sang about the pain of pretending to be someone else, about the fear of never finding love.
The lyrics weren't exactly my story, but the emotion was. Every word I sang felt like a release, and I could feel every tension leaving my body.
I was so lost in the song, so absorbed in the emotion of it, that I didn't notice when someone entered the room. I didn't see the shadow that fell across the wall, didn't hear the footsteps.
I only realized I wasn't alone when I felt hands on my shoulders, warm and sensual. When I heard a voice, low and close to my ear, speaking a name I thought I'd never hear again.
"Livy," the voice whispered, like a caress against my skin. "I've missed you so much."
I froze, the microphone slipping from my numb fingers.