Blue Prints Of Fate

--- (Olivia’s POV) If there was one person in the world capable of making Olivia Sinclair forget every professional skill she had as a psychologist, it was Oliver Sterling. Which was deeply ironic. She spent her days helping people untangle their emotions—fear, anger, heartbreak, trauma. She could read a nervous twitch, interpret silence, and guide someone through the most complicated parts of their mind. But whenever the name Oliver Sterling came up in family conversations, the only emotion she felt was the overwhelming urge to throw something at his head. Olivia closed the folder of her last client for the day and leaned back in her chair. Her office was warm and welcoming, filled with soft earth tones and quiet greenery. A small fern sat near the window, and the faint scent of chamomile tea lingered in the air. Patients often told her the room made them feel safe. Unfortunately, no amount of calming interior design could prepare anyone for Oliver Sterling. Their feud had started long before either of them could properly tie their shoelaces. In kindergarten, Oliver had once dumped an entire shovel of sandbox sand over Olivia’s head simply because she refused to play with him. She still remembered the humiliation. And the way he’d stood there afterward, looking oddly proud of himself. That should have been the end of it. Instead, Oliver seemed to treat it as the beginning of a lifelong tradition. Over the years, he found new ways to irritate her. Mocking her perfect test scores. Stealing her lunch. And worst of all, pushing her into a swimming pool during Liam’s sixteenth birthday party. She still remembered the shock of cold water closing over her head, and Oliver’s laughter from the edge of the pool. That night, she had sworn she would never forgive him. Unfortunately, fate appeared to have a strange sense of humor. Because Oliver wasn’t just some childhood nuisance. He was her brother’s best friend. Liam Sinclair and Oliver Sterling had been inseparable since elementary school. To everyone around them, they were practically brothers. And their families—Sterling and Sinclair—had been close friends since university. Which meant Oliver was always there. At family dinners. During the summer holidays. At birthday celebrations. At every gathering Olivia attended. As if the universe itself had decided they should forever share the same orbit. And Olivia hated it. --- That evening, the Sterling manor was glowing with warm light and laughter. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the grand living room where guests chatted over expensive wine and elegant dishes. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, and the Sinclair family had been invited—as always. Olivia stood near the drinks table when she spotted him. Oliver Sterling. Tall. Impeccably dressed in a black suit. A glass of red wine rested casually in his hand. He looked like he belonged on the cover of some high-end architecture magazine. Which made sense. At thirty, Oliver Sterling was already becoming one of the most respected young architects in London. His firm was growing fast, his designs were praised everywhere, and everyone who met him said the same thing. Brilliant. Olivia had a different word. Infuriating. As if sensing her gaze, Oliver turned. Their eyes met across the room. He raised an eyebrow. Olivia rolled her eyes immediately and turned away. Not tonight. She did not have the energy for one of their arguments. Apparently, Oliver had other plans. Every time Olivia poured herself a glass of wine, Oliver somehow ended up doing the same. Every time she threw a sarcastic comment his way, he answered with that lazy half-smile that made her want to throw the glass at him. Before long, their silent rivalry turned into something dangerously close to a drinking contest. One glass for every insult. One sip for every challenging glance. And before Olivia fully realized what was happening, the world began to feel pleasantly warm and slightly unsteady. --- The party ended well past midnight. It was nearly two in the morning when the last guests finally left. Olivia climbed the grand staircase of the Sterling manor, her head buzzing faintly from the wine. Behind her, Oliver followed with slightly less steady steps. “Your guest room is at the end of the corridor,” he muttered. Olivia snorted. “I know that, Sterling. I’m not blind.” Oliver merely shrugged. But one very important detail slipped through the haze of alcohol. Mrs. Sterling, exhausted from hosting the celebration, had prepared the best guest room for Olivia. Meanwhile, Oliver’s old bedroom was under renovation. Which meant… They had both been directed to the same room. --- Olivia entered first. The room was spacious, dark, and far too warm. Her head throbbed gently from the wine. With slow, tired movements, she slipped out of her cocktail dress and dropped it onto a chair. The silk fabric suddenly felt unbearable after hours of wearing it. Still in her cream-colored silk underwear, she crawled beneath the large bed’s cool sheets. Within seconds, she was asleep. --- A few minutes later, the door opened again. Oliver stepped inside. He was too exhausted to bother with the lights. His shirt, trousers, and socks were quickly discarded before he collapsed onto the other side of the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs. The mattress felt wide and cool. In his half-drunken haze, he felt something warm beside him. A pillow. A very warm pillow. Oliver wrapped an arm around it. The pillow shifted slightly and let out a soft sigh. Oliver simply pulled it closer. --- In her sleep, Olivia felt warmth behind her. Strange. But comforting. Without thinking, she leaned back against the solid chest behind her and wrapped her arm loosely around Oliver. And they slept like that. Like two people who had done this countless times before. --- Morning arrived far too quickly. Mrs. Sinclair—who had always been an early riser—decided to bring her daughter a cup of tea. She opened the guest room door gently. Then froze. Her eyes widened. On the bed, Olivia and Oliver were sleeping in a position that looked incredibly convincing. Olivia’s head rested on Oliver’s bare chest. Their legs were tangled together. And their clothes were scattered across the floor. “Oh. My. God!” Her scream shattered the peaceful morning. --- Olivia woke with a pounding headache. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. Then she realized something. Warm. Too close. Someone was holding her. She opened her eyes. Oliver Sterling. Olivia screamed and jumped to the other side of the bed. “What happened?!” Oliver woke up just as abruptly. He looked at Olivia. Then he looks at himself. Then his gaze fell on the clothes scattered across the floor. “No. No, no, no. This is impossible.” Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Sterling were already standing in the doorway, their expressions shifting from shock to something suspiciously excited. “WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Oliver shouted. “We just slept!” Olivia added desperately. Click. Click. Mrs. Sinclair snapped two photos with her phone. “This isn’t what it looks like!” Oliver insisted. But Mr. Sterling and Mr. Sinclair had already appeared in the hallway. After seeing the photos, both men broke into wide smiles. “Well,” Mr. Sinclair said calmly, “looks like our families are finally becoming one.” “WHAT?!” Oliver and Olivia shouted at the same time. --- At that exact moment, Liam Sinclair walked into the room. He glanced at the photo. Then at Oliver. He was silent for several seconds. And then he burst out laughing. “OH, THIS IS BRILLIANT.” He clapped Oliver on the shoulder. “If that had been any other man in bed with my sister,” he said with a wicked grin, “I would’ve made sure he never walked again.” He paused. Then, Oliver looked straight in the eyes. “But since it’s you…” Liam shook his head slowly. “Welcome to the hell you’ve been afraid of since we were six.” --- Oliver stared at Olivia. Olivia stared back at Oliver. And for the first time in their lives, they both realized the same terrifying thing. This was no longer just a misunderstanding. This was the beginning of something far worse. A marriage neither of them wanted. And apparently… one they could no longer avoid. ---