The Billionaire's Revenge Fiancée

Chapter 4

Olive:

I didn’t go straight back to the office. Instead, I stopped at one of my favorite cafés close to the mall to get a drink after stopping to buy another pair of shoes.

After the morning I had had, I needed a breather.

I took a seat by the window as I sipped my coffee, replaying all the options I had left. My mind drifted to the board’s ultimatum and I grew frustrated all over again.

Speaking of which, I pulled out my phone to call him. Hearing his voice always grounded me whenever the world felt like it was caving in.

He picked up on the second ring, his breath sounding slightly hurried.

“Olive. I’m kind of busy with work right now,” he said, the background noise muffling his tone.

Ethan was the CEO of Thorne Group, a rapidly growing tech company, and he’d been so consumed with work lately that we barely had time to talk.

“Oh. I just… I had a really terrible day.”

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him about the board’s latest ultimatum, but decided against it. He already had enough on his plate.

“I’ll find time for us to meet up later. I’ll treat you to something nice, and you can tell me all about it,” he promised, his voice softening.

A small smile touched my lips. “That would be great. Talk to you later.”

The call ended, and the silence at my table felt a little heavier. Since Ethan was tied up, I decided to send a quick text to Sophia instead. I really just needed a friend to vent to.

Her reply came almost instantly, flat and brief:

‘Middle of an appointment. Talk to you later.’

I took another slow sip of my drink and leaned back, letting out a weary breath.

“Olive? Is that really you?”

My stomach dropped at the familiar voice.

I looked up to find Clara Sinclair standing over my table in all her polished glory, dressed head-to-toe in designer labels with a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

Flanking her were two other women, both radiating the same effortless, expensive aura.

Instinctively, I sat up straighter.

“It is you! Long time,” Clara drawled, stepping closer. “We don’t see you at the galas or the country club anymore.”

Her eyes raked down my rumpled suit with the same judgmental scrutiny my mother had weaponized earlier, before pausing on the band-aid on my forehead. She tilted her head, mock concern softening her features.

“How are you?”

I stared at her. Clara had been one of my closest friends until two years ago. The moment our financial troubles hit the press, she, like most of my former circle, distanced herself immediately.

“I’m doing fine, Clara. How are you?”

“Oh, same old. Just running between fashion shoots and magazine interviews,” she shrugged, pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting uninvited. “You look exhausted, Olive. Is your father’s business still struggling?” She asked, but there was really no concern in her voice.

Instead, her eyes gleamed with the sharp, predatory satisfaction of someone who had just found an easy target.

I knew that look all too well. She was thrilled to see me down.

“What do you actually want, Clara?” I asked, too drained to play polite high-society games.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m just showing some concern,” she purred, leaning forward. “We used to be so close. You were the leader of our little group, so naturally, I’m just… fascinated by how far you’ve fallen.”

Her gaze dropped to my leather bag sitting beside my coffee.

“When is that from? Last season’s clearance?”

She snickered, and her two shadows chimed in right on cue.

“How the Bellini princess has fallen,” one of them whispered.

My knuckles turned white around my coffee cup, but I kept my posture rigid and my expression blank. I looked at her diamond necklace and her flawless silk dress.

That used to be my life.

The Bellini princess. That was what they used to call me, and I had people like Clara desperately wanting to be my friend.

Back then, I had been blind to Clara’s envy and two-faced nature. It wasn’t until our crash that I overheard her mocking my family behind my back, realizing just how much she had secretly hated me for having what she wanted.

We’d had a blowout fight and never spoken again. Sophia was the only person from that circle who had stayed by my side.

“You should bother less about my bag and business and work on your personality. It pays not to be a backstabbing bitch.” I said smoothly.

Clara’s smile flickered, but she recovered quickly with a dry laugh.

“Still as sharp-tongued as ever. I heard you slapped Atlas last night, too. You really shouldn’t take your family’s ruin out on everyone else.”

She shrugged. “Anyway, I only stopped by because Delilah here has an engagement party coming up, and you’re cordially invited.”

“Clara,” the girl beside her warned, shooting her an annoyed glare. Delilah, I presumed.

“Relax,” Clara waved her off dismissively. “Olive and I have history. Her company is drowning, so consider it charity to give her a little exposure.”

She turned her eyes back on me.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already invited Sophia, so you won’t feel completely out of place. Though, I actually saw her at the mall a couple of minutes ago with Ethan. They seemed… remarkably close.”

My hand froze over my cup. A sudden, cold knot tightened in my chest.

‘Ethan and Sophia? Together?’

I forced the thought down instantly. That was impossible. Ethan just told me he was busy with work. How could he be here?

Clara didn’t miss the subtle freeze in my posture and her grin widened.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know? They looked so comfortable together, I assumed they told you.” She leaned in just an inch closer. “What could your boyfriend and your best friend possibly need to hide from you?”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

“If you say so.” Clara backed away. “I have to say though, Sophia looked like a delicate princess and Ethan looked every bit the prince. And you…” She paused. “…Well, they just look better together.”

With that, Clara and her snickering friends sauntered away.

My hands trembled slightly on the table.

I hated that her words had gotten under my skin. I hated even more that, for one terrifying second, a seed of suspicion had actually taken root.

‘No. She’s just trying to tear me down.’

Clara had always suffered from an inferiority complex. She was fabricating drama out of thin air to make herself feel better, and I refused to let her win.

To settle my nerves, I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message to Ethan:

‘Just checking in on you. Call me as soon as you get a minute.’

I hit send and stared at the screen.

My phone suddenly vibrated in my palm, making me jump. It was Elowen calling. I took a deep breath, pushing the creeping paranoia aside, and answered.

“Olive, you need to get back here,” Elowen said, her voice crackling with excitement. “A Japanese artist just reached out and they’re interested in Bel Wines.”

A sudden wave of relief washed over me. This was the first piece of good news I’d received all day.

“I’m on my way right now,” I said, leaving my half-empty coffee behind as I hurried out to my car.

By the time Ethan finally called me back later that evening to offer dinner, the sheer high of working through the collaboration proposal had calmed my nerves.

Hearing his warm, familiar voice on the line was enough to convince me that Clara’s poisonous words were nothing more than a cheap trick. He loved me. He would always put me first.

Regretfully, I had to decline his dinner invitation, but I promised we’d make up for it soon.

I hung up with a small smile, desperate to believe that everything was going to be fine.